


Perchance to Dream

by hindsight404



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: A Court of Frost and Starlight mentions, ACOFAS spoilers, Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Gay Character, Closeted Character, Drama & Romance, During the War, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Lesbian Sex, Pre-A Court of Thorns and Roses, Pre-Canon, Pre-War, Romance, Smut, acowar spoilers, andromache is a babe and no one can tell me otherwise, bisexual mess, not always canon but i try to make it as canon as possible, there's literally so much empty space surrounding the two characters that i filled it in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hindsight404/pseuds/hindsight404
Summary: The War has just begun. Morrigan is sent to the Continent to be the ambassador between humans and Fae. She finds love in a place she never expected.





	1. Beginnings

            Despite his good intentions, it felt like I was being sidelined.

            “Beron and Eris will be on the front lines of this war, Morrigan, and I will not risk you being near them. Or rather, cousin, them being near you.”

            It had been two years since that terrible day, and even still, the memory of it clung to my mind like cobwebs. But two years had been time enough for me to grow, to dream, to learn, and to become more than they would ever have imagined me to be. Unfortunately, it was also the time in which this war had come to fruition.

            I huffed and crossed my arms, appearing most upset with my elder cousin and lord. “I still don’t like this being sent to the Mortal Lands business. It feels…backhanded of you, Rhys.”

            My elder cousin’s face shifted to a frown, and in his voice I heard his concern. “It’s not backhanded. It’s twofold; I can keep you safe from those idiots who would harm you, and you can help us all by being an emissary to the Mortal Lands. You’ll charm more of those humans in less time than I ever could.”

            A guffaw escaped me. “My Lord of the Night Court, saying he can’t charm a rabble of humans? Oh my, what has happened to you, Rhys? Did Cassian hit you a little too hard this morning in training?”

            Ultimately, I knew it was senseless to argue with him. I would end up going, despite how I felt about it. He was right; it would not be a good idea for me to be so close to Beron and Eris, especially during a war. No, going to the Continent to hash out the finer points of a treaty between humans and fae was the better alternative. No matter how much I wanted to fight against Hybern and his drooling dogs, Rhys – as usual – was right in sending me away.

            My cousin laughed, more so in the next few seconds than I had seen him in two years.

            “Ah, Mor, I will miss you. If that makes any difference to you.”

            Despite the Illyrian heat, I rushed towards him and embraced him. “It does,” I whispered, silently thanking the Mother for the man who helped me so much in the two year past. “It does, Rhys. And I will miss you too.”

            “Tomorrow, at dawn,” he continued, before placing a gentle kiss on the top of my golden head, “you will winnow to the eastern coast of Kallias’ realm. You will be accompanied by a small guard. For your safety and the safety of the new queens’. At the lighthouse you will be met by a boat that will ferry you across the sea to the Continent.”

            “You have it all planned out, don’t you?” I asked, pulling away from him and punching his shoulder.

            He grinned, ever so Rhysand-like. “Well, not everything, I hope. But yes. Most of it.”


	2. The Phoenix and the Lioness

            “Why in the Mother’s name are we on this damned boat?” the Fae guard asked before leaning over the railing and heaving his guts into the ocean.

            I laughed to myself, taking a little pleasure in the man’s pain. Fae like him – like me – didn’t have much use for ships, not when we could winnow our way across oceans and continents. I could understand his question, but it was also fun to see him suffer as our human compatriots did.

            In my heart of hearts, I thanked the Mother – and Rhys, Cauldron damn him – for the days I spent underneath the sun in Velaris, trying to force my mind off my tragedies and into hard labor. Fishing boats and abalone diving had cured me of any seasickness I might have contracted on this trip. One of my many jobs I acquired in the two years of healing that I endured.

            Too bad for the poor Dawn Court guard who spent his days green in the face, stomach roiling like the sea. He even begged me once to winnow the rest of the way to the Continent, despite the fact he hadn’t enough strength to make his way to the ship’s galley for a bit of watered down porridge.

            Three days at sea passed before we landed on the shores of the Continent.

            I had to admit to myself the underwhelming feeling I felt when I laid eyes on the capitol city I was to spend my days in. This small portside city held not even a flicker of flame against the blazing star that was Velaris. Wood and stucco, perhaps a small bit of granite, appeared to be the materials of choice for this grand human village. There appeared a fair amount of greenery at least; tall, mighty oaks, towering eucalyptus trees, widespread magnolias, among the many other colorful flowers and seaside wildlife. I did notice a three-leveled tower, as well as a larger collection of buildings I presumed to be the palace, in addition to the ash-wood and iron fence surrounding the little hamlet.

            Marvelous. At least they got the ash correct. The iron…I balked at its presence.

            A portly man in green and brown robes, sweating beneath his armpits and across his brow, greeted us at the end of the causeway leading to the marina’s dock.

            “Honored guests!” he declared. A bumbling bow preceded his next words. “I am Thelonius Fairmead, emissary to my lords and ladies of the Continent, here to welcome you to our beloved city of Sunstead.”

            As ambassador to the Courts of Prythian, it was my duty to correspond with the man. A small sigh left my breath, not unnoticed by the fae guards standing behind me.

            “And I am Morrigan of the Night Court, here as representative and emissary of all the Courts of Prythian. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Thelonius.”

            I could smell his sweat in any direction from a hundred paces and see the formation of more of it from the same distance. His heart beat inside his chest, a thunderous little thing ringing in my ears. Ah, fear. I could even smell it on the fat, little man.

            Would Rhysand curse me if I did not, in the least, pretend to be more fearsome than I was? A streak of Cassian’s mischievous influence lingered still within me.

            “Ah, I thank you, Lady Morrigan, for your kind words, but I am a humble man and no lord,” little Thelonius squeaked out. “If you and your companions will follow me, I will escort you to the palace.”

            He turned on his heel far quicker than any other mortal I had seen before and made for the wooden chariot standing not far off on one of the docks. Another chariot with two beautiful golden stallions stood close by along with a collection of armed humans and more saddled but empty horses. Ash spears tilted sunward, but at a moments notice would pierce fae flesh.

            White gulls shrieked above us as sailors and fishermen went about their business. The captain of the ship we departed tossed his sack of gold from one hand to other, measuring its weight in his hands. I could hear him as we made for the chariot and horses and hear the whispers of the fishmongers as we neared.

            “The fae are ‘ere…” they whispered amongst each other.

            A hundred heartbeats beat a hundred times faster, but not one of the humans moved against us. They merely watched and whispered…

            “’Iss the Morrigan, ya know? She sees all, knows all…truth is ‘er weapon…”

            Indeed it was, if only truth was the weapon of my own life.

            Thelonius motioned for me to jump into the other chariot. “This way we can speak before meeting with the lords and ladies.”

            A young boy, no more than ten years old, was the driver of the chariot I mounted. Bronzed from the sun, hair as black as raven’s feathers, eyes brown like the cocoa treats from the Summer Court. He smiled at me. The first smile ever given to me by a human.

            “Shall we be off, Mistress?” he asked me once I had come aboard.

            “Indeed.”

            He nodded and with a crack of the reins, we were off towards the stucco and granite formulation of the palace, leaving the sea and the port behind us.

            Thelonius was a nervous bundle of conversation the entire way to the palace. He flapped his gums, leaving behind small morsels of information that I was keen to pick up. Firstly, the lords and ladies he spoke so highly of were only very newly elevated to such levels. Second, the fae overseers that had once made slaves of these lords and ladies had been killed amidst the riots that broke out across the Continent only six months before. Third, the “city” of Sunstead was still new to the Continent and had been founded by the humans as a fresh start, a display of their independence and freedom from their former fae overlords.

            Thus, it made sense why everything surrounding myself and my guards appeared so new, so dirty, so _human_. They had just been made free; they didn’t have enough of their own knowledge of life without the fae to amass grand buildings and glorious palaces. But they were determined: to have their freedom and to keep it. I knew something of that determination and admired them for it.

            Finally, we arrived at the palace gates and were ushered inside the main courtyard under the careful eyes of more human guards. The whole place was so very plain, much like the humans and their garb waiting for us at the steps of the palace.

            Six humans altogether; three males and three females, each vastly different from the other.

            Thelonius bumbled as he stepped off his chariot and might have fallen backwards on his head, but with a short step, I caught the man from behind by the shoulders and set him upright. The six lords and ladies gasped, for I had startled them with my quick movements, but they seemed to calm themselves once they saw Thelonius unharmed. They might have assumed I meant to harm them.

            “Are you all right, Thelonius?” I asked gently.

            The fat sweaty male wiped his brow and nodded. “I am. Thank you.” He looked to the nearby humans, four of them clustered together like frightened children. “My lords and ladies, I introduce to you Lady Morrigan of the Night Court, who is to be our ambassador from Prythian.”

            I bowed, Illyrian fighting leathers creaking with my movements. If I had Rhys’s gift I might have tried to touch their minds, to see how intimidating I looked to them, how frightened they were of me and the fae guards with me. But I could smell their fear. At least, in four of them. The other two…

            A bronze-skinned, fire-haired male with eyes as blue as the cerulean ocean stepped boldly forward and gave a curt bow. “I am Lord Vestus. Pleased to meet you, Lady Morrigan.”

            On him, I smelt courage in the face of fear. I heard his heartbeat, a slow, steady, and rhythmic thing. Not an ounce of fear, not a drop of sweat; courage, bravery, perseverance. A heart like a fiery phoenix, rising from the ashes of his past to become greater than that which he was before.

            I could not help but admire him and feel a small part of a common bond.

            “And I am Lady Andromache,” a small but bold voice added.

            I looked to its owner; a beautiful, golden-haired, umber-skinned female stood a step behind Lord Vestus. She was young, probably no more than her twenties in human years. As my eyes met hers, something snapped within my fae mind – no, not the mating bond, but something! Amber eyes, something like the color of honey, gazed back at me. Perhaps it was the Truth within me, leaking through into my thoughts. It had to be.

            She was…

            “A pleasure to meet you both,” I finally responded, willing my tongue to speak. “And the rest of you are…?” A smile crept its way onto my face, and I hoped that it would warm the remainder of the frightened humans into introductions.

            They all gave me their names, pleasantries were exchanged, I introduced my dour-appearing guards, and Thelonius stepped back in.

            “Wonderful. Now that we are all acquainted, Lady Morrigan, I shall take you to your rooms…”

            As I followed the male, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder one last time at the fiery-haired phoenix and the golden-crested lioness. Two fierce humans. The Continent was lucky to have them. But what was it about that lioness, that amber-eyed woman whose gaze held mine for only a moment?

            The Truth evaded me. But I would discover it. I needed to.


	3. Magnolias

            Dinner that evening was a strange affair.

            I had not participated in many human mealtime traditions before. Once or twice, a campsite breakfast or late supper, but never a formal sit-down dinner. Less than a year ago, humans had not been free to hold their own mealtimes, or to discover and create their own traditions.

            The food, however, was good. Spit-roasted quail, flaky white sea bass, charbroiled summer vegetables, creamy lentil soup, soft garlic-crusted breads, buttery peach cobbler… It was nowhere near as good as the food in Velaris, but it held a candle against many meals I had eaten in the past.

            “How goes the war on the Prythian front?” Lord Vestus asked me during the meal.

            Rhysand had given me his approval to tell them everything, in the hopes that it would help to sway the humans further into creating a treaty. I aimed to hold nothing back from them.

            “It’s been bloody,” I told the six lords and ladies, who I’d decided to refer to from now on as the Six. “Hybern’s soldiers have been relentless, particularly in the southern realm of Prythian and along the coast. Amarantha, Hybern’s most relentless general, has crowned herself High Queen, and her reign has been a terrible one so far.”

            With this information I shared, I noticed how the golden, curly-haired lady straightened and seemed to pay more attention, leaning over her food and watching me with a strain between her eyebrows.

            “What has she done in the south?” she asked, her words tight with concern.

            “Crucifixion of humans and human-supporting fae alike, burned and pillaged towns and villages… She set an entire forest on fire, just to weed out the refugees who fled there, and as they ran out of the forest, she had her soldiers cut them down. It has been, like I said, bloody and horrible.”

            “And what has your High Lord done about it?” a hook-nosed male with beady black eyes and oily hair asked me.

            “More than any of you have.” With those words, a dark tone settled into the conversation. I folded my hands in front of me. “If you wish to lead your fellow humans, you need to become organized. Your people are being murdered by the thousands, and all of you sit over here in your new palace playing at being rulers.”

            “How dare—” the hook-nosed male started but was interrupted by Lady Andromache.

            “She’s right. They are our people. Our responsibility, my lords and ladies, and we have done nothing for them.” She stared each of the other five in the face before turning back to me and saying, “And we are grateful to you, Lady Morrigan, and your High Lord for all you have done for us, for our people.”

            “Your people need you.”

            I searched Andromache’s face; so beautiful, so young, so concerned… Who was she, how had she come here, and why was she the only one speaking up right now? What had happened in her life that had brought her this far? My heart’s longing for the Truth burned within me…that spark of _something_ returned as I saw more and more of her.

            “Yes, they do,” Vestus chipped in. “And we are willing to discuss terms of a treaty with you and your High Lords. A conversation for tomorrow, my lords and ladies.”

            That seemed to end the discussion on the war. The hook-nosed lord sniveled at me and turned to the elderly lady sitting beside him to complain about something. I noticed a look that passed between Vestus and Andromache, a look that came from the lord as if to, without words, reassure her. Andromache simply nodded, feigned a smile, and returned to her food.

            I sat in silence and finished my meal, watching the Six as they conversed and whispered at the table. Strange, so utterly strange to me.

            The audacity that lord had to question what Rhys was doing for _his_ people, _his_ human people? As if to chide the Fae for doing what the humans should be doing themselves…fighting. But the humans were no match for Hybern, or Amarantha, or any of the courts who still wanted their human slaves. No, the humans needed the Fae. But the human lords and ladies also needed to come up with a strategy, a plan, a treaty, to protect their people.

…

            Bickering.

            Bickering seemed to be the only thing that the Six were good at. They bickered like children over which lord would get which area once the war was one, which lady would have the most soldiers, who among them would be the High Lord or Lady of the region… Arguing, bickering, complaining.

            It drove me mad.

            Eventually, they decided to take a break. I certainly needed one – and found myself in the garden surrounded by towering magnolia trees and vibrant wildflowers. A rustle of sea-rich air swept into the area and helped to calm me, brought me thoughts of Velaris, my home, and my beloved family.

            I wondered how Rhys was, and Cassian, and Azriel, and even Amren. I missed them all. It had been a long time since I had been away from them for this long.

            “Lady Morrigan?” a small voice called out to me.

            Shocked that I let my guard down and did not sense the presence of the individual behind me, I swiveled sharply, and found myself face to face with Lady Andromache.

            Gathering myself, I bowed, and greeted her. “I’m sorry, my lady, you scared me.”

            She smirked. “I did not think it possible to scare a Fae.”

            I noticed then the gentle scattering of dark freckles stretched across her face and down her throat, as well as the dimple in her chin. Up close, her eyes were like swirling liquid bronze.

            A chuckle came from my throat. “You would be surprised, my lady.”

            “You can call me Andromache,” she replied. “I’m not much of a lady, truth be told.”

            She appeared like a lady, dressed in swirling layers of golden fabric, her hair swept into a spiral atop her head with curls framing the sides of her face. Brass bangles lined her arms and she wore a simple gold ring on her right hand. She looked like a queen.

            “You are more a lady than your peers.”

            “Forgive them, Lady Morrigan. We are all…new to our station.”

            “How did you…become a lady? If I might ask?” I motioned for her to walk beside me, and she fell in step with me as we walked beneath the shade of the magnolias.

            “I am from the southern part of Prythian,” Andromache began. And then it made sense why she was so concerned last night at dinner when I talked about the fighting and horror in the south. “I was a slave, of course, just like the rest of them. I worked in a lumber camp as a healer for the injured slaves. No magic, of course, but using herbs and poultices and such. The things I saw…the punishments our Fae overlords dealt…”

            She shook her head, as if to free herself from the horrible memories. I too understood that desire.

            “One day, two of the slaves made a run for it, but our master tracked them down and brought them back. He had them whipped, beaten, tortured, in front of all of us in the camp, as a lesson. Later that night, a group of us decided we had enough, and not to run for it, but to rebel. Several of the men had stockpiled ash stakes from the forest. So they lit torches, snuck into the master’s tent, and murdered him and all his guards.

            “Two days later, we thought we were free, but more Fae soldiers came for us. We ran, and I made sure each and every one of my fellow slaves made it out. Those who were injured I helped heal… The Fae never found us. My fellow slaves asked me to be their leader. And when the courts began to rebel against Hybern… Well, they put me in charge of more and more people, runaways and refugees who found our camp. And eventually, we learned that there were others, across the sea, hoping to make a difference for our people. They told me to leave, to go and help them.

            “So I left, and came here, and they made me a lady and said I represented the humans from the south of Prythian. And I have been here ever since, for almost six months, trying to help my people.”

            “You are very brave,” I told her, “to have done what you did. Leaving your people behind to come here to help them.”

            “I feel like I have failed them already…” She wrung her hands, playing with the golden ring on her finger. “Six months, and we have done nothing but argue. The only thing we ever agreed on was the decision to let you come as an ambassador from the High Lord Rhysand.”

            “That must have been a difficult agreement to come to.”

            “If I had known they were sending you, Lady Morrigan, I might have pushed them to make a decision sooner.”

            I wasn’t certain if I had heard her correctly. Or maybe she meant the words in a different way. But what it sounded like was… No. I stilled my heart and my mind. She couldn’t possibly. Nor could I. Those parts of me were locked up, never to see the light of day.

            We kept walking along, meanwhile I tried to decide how to respond. With humor? Wit? Brevity? No, she had just told me many grave and sad things… But then she said that last part, and I wasn’t sure what it meant.

            Pleasantry, I decided on. “Well, it is my honor to be here, Lady Andromache.”

            “Andromache,” she corrected, “just Andromache.”

            I looked over at her and saw that she was smiling at me. Again, I felt that _something_ ; whether it was the Truth, or the pull to it, remained to be seen.

            “Mor,” I choked out. “And you may call me Mor…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far. Things are going to start picking up, hopefully. Obviously, the timeline of events is a bit of a mess, but that's only because SJM doesn't give us much of one, so I've improvised. Leave comments to help me out! I'd appreciate your feedback!


	4. A Moment and a Lifetime

            A week passed. A week filled with meetings, introductions, dinners, and lots and lots of wine.

            The humans certainly did enjoy their wine. And – aside from the best wines in all the world that came from Velaris – the wine created by the humans was not horrible. A little dry, sometimes earthier, sometimes more watered down, but overall, fair.

            I had seen Lord Vestus and Andromache frequently amidst the various meetings and dinners, but somehow never had a moment to converse for longer than simple pleasantries.

            Until one morning. My guards and I had formulated a morning routine of exercises and training to keep both our combat skills and magic up to par with those still fighting in Prythian. It was quite the sight to see the display we put on. Three of the guards came from the Night Court, two from the Dawn Court, three from Summer, one hailed from Autumn, and two more from the court of Winter. Such a spread of skill and mastery!

            Ice flew into the face of the Summer guard, meanwhile the Autumn blasted a torrent of fire at the Dawn guard’s impenetrable shield. I simply sparred with the Night courters, three against one, my Illyrian fighting skill versus what they had learned from my father in the Darkbringers.

            Earlier in the week I had sensed a small human watching us and, on that day, noted only the boy who had driven my chariot to the palace. I grinned at him, waved, and continued my sparring.

            That morning, however, I sensed more than the one young boy had come to watch all of us.

            After disarming one of my sparring partners and knocking the other two flat on their backs, I turned and looked up, motioning to the rest of them to halt their practice along with me.

            The Six stared at us with jaws agape.

            “If you would like, my lords and ladies, we can spare a moment to instruct any of you?” I offered, a quaint attempt to appease the Six of their distaste for all things Fae.

            “Not on my life,” said the hook-nosed lord.

            That seemed to settle that, as four of the Six ambled away, while Lord Vestus and Andromache came closer. My guards stood a bit taller, I noticed, as they both came close, and a few stared a touch longer at Andromache than might have been considered proper in human etiquette.

            I had not forgotten our first introduction and the spark I felt when I looked at her, and my underlying search for the Truth of _why_. And I had not forgotten our walk in the garden, beneath the magnolia trees, and what she had said, and how I still was not sure exactly what she meant.

            “A fine display.” Lord Vestus commented. “Your fighting skills are impressive, Lady Morrigan.”

            “Thank you, my lord.”

            He waved a hand dismissively. “Please, call me Vestus. I’m not used to this ‘my lord’ title yet. I’d prefer to be called Vestus.”

            Both he and Andromache then. Since they kept such close company, I supposed that it made sense. I nodded. “Of course.”

            “Would you and your guardsmen actually be able to teach us to fight the way that you do?”

            “I…suppose,” I stuttered. My gaze drifted to Andromache, questioning without words as to her reasons.

            “I am a healer, but I am now a lady too, and should know how to defend myself.”

            “Me as well,” Vestus chimed in. “I know only the basics of swordplay but want to know more. And of course, be able to defend myself and others.”

            One of the guardsmen, a Winter Court fellow, stepped forward. “I’d be willing to teach you, my lord and lady. In the Winter Court, we call it the Frost Dance.”

            “And I am willing to show you how we in the Dawn Court defend against our enemies,” said the other guardswoman from the court of Dawn.

            Several others chipped in that they would be willing to teach the two of them their mastery in the arts of whichever court they hailed from.

            “Very well. Shall we start tomorrow?” Vestus asked.

            I nodded, Andromache smiled, and the two of them left after a series of bows.

…

            In the evenings, I’d taken to eating with my guardsmen in one of the large dining rooms found snuggled amongst the suites where they stayed. Human servants typically served them, but after a few days, two of the Fae pointed out that they could serve themselves and to have humans serving Fae again was backwards from what we were trying to accomplish here.

            Thus, the guards rotated through each of the stations; one night, two of them would help in the kitchen, and then the next night help to serve the food, and the night after that they would assist with the clean up of their meal. It was a pleasant cycle. One I was proud to be a part of.

            On my night to serve my guardsmen – which just so happened to be after the morning that Vestus and Andromache found us amidst our training – a Night court guard asked me, “Morrigan, why did you come to the Continent, to the Mortal Lands? Did Lord Rhysand send you away?”

            The guard was drunk, lapping heavily at the human’s latest barrel of tempranillo, thus his usual social barriers were brought down. And I, placed in the precocious place of answering the question of my drunken guardsman, sighed heavily as I set down a platter of stuffed game hens.

            “He sent me away, indeed! Because he could no longer stand to witness your ugly face! And thus, thought to get rid of the both of us!”

            Everyone in the little suite cackled with drunken laughter. What I had said was truly not that funny, but they all seemed to think it so. I disappeared back into the hallway to fetch the next platter of food, still hearing their laughter and mirth, and ran straight into a small, curly-haired figure.

            I mumbled my apologies and separated myself from the figure, only to see that it was Andromache and that she looked up at me, her eyes wide and beaming.

            “Mor,” she breathed, and I felt weak in my knees.

            “My lady, I am sorry,” I apologized again. “I didn’t see you –“

            “It’s alright, Mor. No harm, no foul, as we humans say. Are you…serving your guardsmen?”

            She peeked around me, through the open door, and must have heard their cackling laughter. I heard a crass joke from the room behind me and blushed as red as a beet at its utterance.

            “Uh, yes, yes I am,” I mumbled as I sidestepped around the young woman to continue down the hall. “And I have another dish to fetch… I should…”

            “Can I help?” she asked, laughter and joy in her eyes as she looked after me.

            “Um…if… I mean, it’s not really…”

            Instead, she pressed past me and walked down the hall from which she had come. “Let me help you. I don’t mind at all!”

            I could hardly breathe as I watched her, bright and shining with her golden dress billowing about her, glide down the hall to the kitchens. She wore a face of joy, no stain of the tragedy and enslavement she had endured. In fact, I could have sworn she wore a crown, of lion’s claws and magnolia flowers and poultices and ash spears…

            The Truth would have its way, no matter what I wanted – or what anyone else wanted.

            I felt the Truth seeping out of me, tendrils touching the beautiful young woman who trudged on ahead of me…

            “My lady!” the head chef exclaimed when he saw Andromache, stirring me from my musing.

            “Any dishes left for our Fae guests, good friend?” she asked, voice as sweet and silky as honey.

            He bumbled as he finished the final touches on a dish of baked trout and asparagus. “Are you serving them, Lady Andromache?” He eyed me, apprehensive.

            “Of course, I am,” Andromache replied confidently. “Who better to serve our guests?”

            The chef grumbled again before he lifted the platter up to the serving area. “Indeed, my lady, indeed.”

            And I was helpless against her as she marched, tray of trout in hand, down the hall once more and into the suite of drunken Fae. Silence spread throughout the room. Everyone looked at me, then at her, then at me again. I nodded. I could do nothing else.

            I was powerless against the lioness.

            “Enjoy, my friends,” Andromache said with a smile as she set down the last platter of food.

            The silence held… Until the Dawn Court guardswoman asked, “Would you care to join us, Lady Andromache?”

            Another smile broke out across her beautiful face. Andromache glanced back at me for but a second, and my heart stuttered one more time, before she said, “I would love to,” and took a seat next to a Summer court guard.

…

            My fists pressed into my eyes in the morning, attempting to wipe the drunken hangover from my fuzzy head.

            “Enjoy yourself last night, my lady?” asked the Night court guard, Felix, as he waved his sword in front of my face.

            I knocked the sword away. “I’m fine,” I grumbled.

            Snippets of hazy memories floated across my mind… Andromache laughing with my guards during dinner… Someone poured me more wine, again, and again, and again… Andromache smiling at me in the moonlit darkness of a room…Were we alone?… The rest of it was a haze, a blur… What had happened?

            “Nothing a little exercise can’t cure.”

            I took my position. And then pounced.

            Two hours later, the sun crested over the eastern horizon. The far-off ocean glittered with gold. Sunshine danced upon the rooftops of the humans’ palace.

            A fist went up into my face, smashing my nose, and truly waking me from my hungover stupor. Blood gushed from my nostrils as I bent forward and let it flow.

            “Missed that move, didn’t you?” Felix laughed to himself, blood spattered against his sword hand.

            I shook my head, blew my nose into the sand, and stood upright again, twirling the shortsword in my hand. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

            As I twirled, metal meeting metal, I saw her.

            Another flash of memory… Her smile. The way she looked down at me… A hazy summer dream… A queen crowned in lion’s claws and magnolia flowers…

            “Lady Andromache.”

            Felix withdrew. We both turned to face her. And Vestus, who stood behind her with a practice sabre strapped to his side.

            “May we join you?” Andromache asked.

            Of course, the answer was _yes._

…

            After a long soak in the bathtub – to scrub the sweat and dirt from my body and to help cure my hangover – Thelonius came to my room to ask me to urgently meet the Six in the dining hall, where they were holding their next meeting.

            The fat little human left. In my rush, I whispered a glamour over my wet hair and put on a long plum-colored dress. It was light, two layers of chiffon twirling with my movements and allowing the hot Sunstead air to move about. I glanced once in the mirror, adjusted the glamour on my hair, and then made for the dining hall.

            They were already bickering by the time I arrived. Arguing, again, but this time, it felt different.

            “Why should we not be kings and queens?”

            It was Vestus whose voice rose above the clamor, who demanded the most of his fellow humans.

            “Hybern is king, has made his general Amarantha queen of our lands… Why should we not also be like them?”

            “Because we are _not_ like _them_ ,” the hook-nosed imbecile hissed as I entered into the dining hall and took my chair.

            “But we can be better.”

            And silence fell across the bickering group of humans.

            It was Andromache who spoke. She cleared her throat. She sat up a touch straighter.

            Cauldron, she was so beautiful, so fierce, I thought.

            “We can be better than them, my lords and ladies. And we must be, for the sake of our people. What is a title, compared to when lives are at stake? I say we call ourselves kings and queens and be done with it. Move forward. Move towards peace. And a treaty with the Fae.”

            The hook-nosed man nodded his head. “I concur. At least with being kings and queens. As far as a treaty with the Fae, we can continue discuss that later.”

            “Then is it settled?” Vestus asked the remainder of them. “Those in favor say ‘aye’.”

            A chorus of “ayes” went up from the six of them.

            “Well then, my fellow kings and queens… May a brighter day come soon.”

            The Six nodded and clapped and grumbled.

            But to me, I saw decisions being made…moves along the chessboard…and the humans were standing up for themselves, no longer pawns…

            “I’m glad you came, Lady Morrigan,” Vestus told me as the meeting was dismissed. “A momentous occasion to be shared by all races…”

            “Indeed, your Majesty,” I replied with a lofty, sweeping bow.

            He laughed. “Oh, my lady, you humor me.” His laughter was joyous.

            Andromache flitted towards us, smiles and exuberance radiating about her. She appeared…happy. Excited. So young, so full of life, opportunity, optimism… But she was also something more – and she had shown it to them all during the meeting. She was a leader.

            She was a queen.

            “Congratulations to you as well, your Majesty,” I said to her, adding another bow.

            Thoughts wandered back to the night before… What had passed between us? Wine? A room alone? Had I done something I would regret? Or that she would?

            “Thank you, Mor,” she replied, smiling from ear to ear.

            “Not that it _really_ matters, but hopefully, this well help us to gain ground in forming a treaty,” Vestus added, nodding to Andromache.

            “Let us hope so,” she sighed. “Those thimble-headed fools…”

            A human guard approached Vestus, bowing quickly, then whispering in his ear. Vestus nodded to the guard and then looked to us, saying, “I’m sorry. There’s something that needs my attention. I have to go.” We nodded our understanding. Vestus bowed quickly once more, then as he left, grabbed Andromache’s hand and kissed it. He said nothing to her, just made eye contact, and then whirled and was off.

            It was a strange gesture, I thought. It seemed a touch affectionate. But I looked at Andromache and she did not seem fazed by it. Had it been friendly? Supportive? Romantic?

            Wheels turned in my mind.

            But I didn’t have time to dwell on my thoughts. Andromache stood before me.

            “It’s late,” she said before I could even formulate words to say. “Will you escort me to my chamber, Mor?”

            Such a casual invitation… So much for containing my thoughts!

            “Of course, your Majesty.”

            We left the dining hall and made for the human chambers along the western edge of the seaside palace. Andromache walked slowly. I attempted to maintain the slower pace. I was not used to it. To focus myself, I listened to her heartbeat – a crescendo faster than its usual rate – and her breathing – deep, focused, energy racing inward. And I could smell something on her too, but I wasn’t sure that I was right about it…

            Since we were alone, and the hall was quiet, I thought that now would be no better time to bring up what might have happened between us last night.

            “I apologize if I was overly hard on you in training today,” I said.

            Andromache chuckled lightly and grinned. Sunshine seemed to beam from her beautiful face when she did.

            “I was a _little_ hungover from last night.”

            “I knew you were. You were very irritable with the guardsmen today.”

            “And to be honest, I don’t remember much of what happened last night either. Did I miss anything?”

            She chuckled again, then replied, “Nothing particularly important. Your guardsmen tried to get you to gossip about the goings on of their courts, but your lips were sealed. Eventually they got bored of you and left you alone. I walked you back to your room, tucked you into bed, and left you there sound asleep.”

            Andromache tucked me into bed? She… Cauldron, how embarrassing. I felt my cheeks flush with heat. “You tucked me into bed?”

            “You were fairly easy to convince you needed to sleep,” she giggled.

            _Mother, strike me down where I stand!_ I beseeched. How horribly embarrassing.

            “You didn’t have to do any of that. But thank you.”

            “You’re welcome, Mor. It was very entertaining. And I didn’t mind. But…”

            We were almost at her chamber, just a few small steps away from the door, when she stopped and turned to face me. In this light, with the moon streaming through the window in front of her, I could see her face, the freckles, the glint of gold in her curly long hair…

            I feared what she might say and felt my own heart begin to race.

            “But you did call me beautiful,” she said, biting her lip once the words came from her mouth.

            Uncertain if I was embarrassed, liberated, ashamed, or overjoyed at what I had told her, I cleared my throat…I needed to proceed delicately… There were still ears, there were still Fae here in the palace – Fae who knew me and bits of my story, but never the full truth, thank the Cauldron – there were still precautions I needed to take... And truly, despite knowing in my heart of hearts who I was, despite seeing Andromache and her beauty – Cauldron, she was gorgeous – and even though I thought she was a brave and kind woman… She was also human…

            How was I to proceed? To lie was to deny her beauty.

            Was it worth it to take the plunge? Was it worth it to admit it? Could I come across as a friend, just another female admiring another female for the sake of appreciating beauty? Did I even want to present myself as that to her, to continue this charade and lying to myself?

            It all pressed in on me, a vice in my mind; the spark of whatever I had felt when I first saw her, what she had said in the garden under the magnolia trees, the way she looked at me in my hazy wine-soaked memory…

            My battle seemed to last both a moment and a lifetime; and both were true. A moment and a lifetime.

            “Well, you are. You are a beautiful woman, Andromache.” The words didn’t come out quite right, but they were out.

            “Woman? Or human?”

            “The two are not mutually exclusive,” I told her, throat tightening.

            I needed to leave the conversation. An exit. Before I said anything else incriminating.

            “I think that you’re beautiful too, Mor. As a woman and a Fae.”

            _Cauldron, Mother_ … I begged them to make me a way out… What could I say to her?

            Before I could find my exit, Andromache took a step closer to me, eyes looking straight up into mine, and she gently grabbed onto my left hand. I swallowed, paralyzed, afraid to move for fear that I would frighten her.

            But I could smell her. And Andromache was not afraid of me.

            “I want us to be friends, Mor...”

            “I…would like that too,” I replied. And that was the truth.

            And my heart of hearts wanted more than just that. That was another Truth that I could not evade. But I steeled myself, as I had for nearly seventy years, and pushed that part of me down.

            Another enchanting smile spread along Andromache’s lips. The dimple in her chin creased when she smiled, I noticed, and her freckles brightened around her eyes.

            “Good,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze and stepping away.

            I realized as she moved away from me that I had hardly breathed, had only stared into her amber eyes, examined her lips…

            A swirl of her aqua-colored dress and she had turned back towards the door of her room.

            “I’ll see you in the morning, Mor.”

            After Andromache disappeared into her chamber, I raced back to my own room, threw my face into my hands, and panicked.


	5. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving right along. Lots of angst.

            “Our people are dying!” The middle-aged black-haired queen sitting straight and tall in her chair narrowed her eyes at me. “And you would have us just…forgive you Fae for what you have done?”

            “I do not condone what my kind has done to yours,” I said, calmly, my hands clasped together to keep me from strangling the woman who wouldn’t understand. “It was – is – an abomination. No one should be a slave. But we few who are willing to make peace…those of us, you should give us a chance. For your people.”

            It felt like I said the same thing to them every day in different words. It was usually three of them who wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t negotiate, wouldn’t accept that all the Fae were not the same. I reminded them daily that it was my High Lord who fought for them, my kind who died for them, my kind who ensured their kinds’ safety. And every day, it all seemed that my words fell upon deaf ears.

            Andromache and Vestus listened. The old woman with gray hair and pale skin, covered with moles and skin tags, but still somehow clinging to a long-lost youth, she sometimes listened, sometimes considered what I had to say. Other days it was this black-haired woman, this hellhound from the deepest pits of the Cauldron, who listened and believed me.

            Today was no such day.

            None of the Six were listening seeing my point of view. Perhaps Andromache, but she was indiscernible, stone-faced and staring at me.

            “My people bleed with yours,” I reminded the Six.

            “And perhaps that is where it should end,” the hook-nosed king sniveled.

            I was tired. So I sighed. Receded within myself. Physically, sat back in my chair and let loose. “And maybe it shall…”

            An ominous ode to the end of the discussion. Thelonious waddled into the room then and asked that we take a break until the next morning.

            Three months of meetings…and we were nowhere. Nowhere closer to the dream of peace.

…

            In the recent weeks, I’d taken to wandering the little human capitol on my own. I found many hidden jewels that I never thought to discover before, especially in a human establishment.

            The fishermen down at the docks were funny and they always had good stories to tell. Most of them didn’t mind that I was Fae, so long as I listened and sat with them and perhaps bought a fish or two. The rotund weaver on the mainland edge of the city had twelve children and crafted some of the most beautiful rugs I’d ever seen. She didn’t say much to me but let me play with her young ones and show them little magic tricks I’d picked up from Rhys in our more innocent years. A pasture of draught horses sat nearby the weaver’s house; I brought them apples and spoke to them sweetly in the nearly-forgotten Fae tongue. They nickered and huffed and let me stroke their marvelous coats. The human guards at the palace had become accustomed to my presence and I even sat with a few of them on their breaks and sipped chilled wine with them; they told me of the horrors they had faced during the Fae occupation, and the freedom and relief they felt when they drove them out. I listened and nodded and sipped, and that seemed to help, to soothe their hurt and their anger.

            I sat in a café near the port, drinking chilled sweet wine in the sun with Felix, who was off shift at the time. He had become a close companion, someone I could trust, in the last few months. He was unlike the others who were born and raised in the Hewn City.

            He was kind. So unlike my father. So unlike everyone else in that hell-pit. He talked. I listened. Felix was coarse and unrefined, crass and outspoken, yet kind and soothing. He reminded me of Cassian yet possessed many of Rhys’s qualities. In those months Felix had become one of my few friends.

            “It’s horrifying to think that while we sit here on our asses our people are dying,” Felix remarked to me.

            Indeed it was. And in part, we had these damned humans to blame…

            “I sit here drinking sweet wine with the Morrigan and my friends are on some Cauldron-forsaken plain being butchered by Hybern’s monsters…”

            “I don’t like it any more than you do,” I reminded him for the hundredth – or maybe thousandth – time.

            “I know that what we are doing here is important, my lady, but… I cannot help to think of my friends and family that bleed for these ungrateful, spineless—”

            The little boy with eyes like cocoa, my little chariot driver and snoop, ran up to us from further down the street.

            “My Lady Morrigan!” he called, huffing as he approached Felix and me.

            Felix was careful to set down his wine before sitting forward and asking the little boy, “What is it?”

            “There’s another one…like you…but his wings!” the little boy puffed, his arms spanning out from his chest to show off what he spoke of. “He says he’s here to speak to you, and you only, Lady Morrigan.”

            My mind raced. It could be Cassian, or Azriel, or even Rhys, though it was not very likely…or just some obnoxious Illyrian leather-lover… I sighed. In any case, it sounded like I needed to go and see what was happening.

            “Where is he?” I asked, even though I knew that whoever it was with the big wings, they were in the palace.

            “The palace, my lady.”

            I nodded my confirmation to the boy. He turned tail and ran back up where he had come from.

            We paid the human café owner and Felix knocked back the rest of his wine. As Felix and I trudged back up the road towards the palace, I spotted Andromache coming out of one of the houses off an alleyway. I stopped, thinking it peculiar that the human queen was both dressed in modest rags and in the middle of an alleyway. I noticed her burlap bag then, slung over her shoulder with shreds of greenery hanging out it.

            “Your Majesty?” I addressed her, opting for the more formal title while in front of Felix.

            She smiled at me when she saw me, so radiant and beaming, like a lion basking in the sun.

            Cauldron, every time I saw her… She was so beautiful…

            “Lady Morrigan, Felix,” she tittered our names happily. “What are you doing on this fine day?”

            “Seeing the city and drinking all its wine, my queen,” Felix answered for me.

            “What about you, your Majesty?” I asked her, nodding to her satchel.

            She hefted the bag in one hand. “I still tend to the sick and wounded every once in a while. Helps me to keep my skills up. However, today I helped a midwife deliver a baby.”

            “Ah, how wonderful.” Felix laughed. “A good birth, I hope, your Majesty?”

            “Yes. A good one indeed. Both mother and baby are healthy.”

            “Headed back to the palace?”

            Andromache nodded. “I am. Will you walk with me, Lady Morrigan?”

            “Of course.”

            Felix nodded to me, understanding that the invitation had not been extended to himself, and lingered behind a moment before following a good distance behind us.

            As I offered to take her satchel for her – and Andromache of course refused but I politely insisted, and she relented, and I carried it for her – I noticed that she wore very plain and simple clothes, probably for comfort and ease in her work today. A basic bellflower blue toga covered in a brown muslin shawl; and still she looked as radiant as the sun. Nothing, not even drab clothing, could diminish her beauty and light.

            Andromache chatted idly about the birth, the bearing mother, the plump screaming baby, her respect and admiration for the midwife… I could have listened all day.

            We were nearing the hill leading to the palace when she said to me, “I want you to know, Mor, that if I had it my way we wouldn’t sitting in that room every day like we do, squabbling like children. And…despite my enslavement, despite the horrors, I know that there are good Fae out there, and they are fighting for us. Good Fae, good people, like you.”

            “You’re being kind, Andromache,” I told her.

            “But honest. I know that you like to come down here, into the city, and meet with the people who live here. You don’t have to get to know us or our customs or trade or traditions or anything, and yet you do.”

            “If I’m being honest, I enjoy it. It’s refreshing – your human way of life. So different from what I am accustomed to.”

            “And what are you accustomed to?”

            Betrayal. Friendship. Love. Hurt. Light. Despair. Hope. A Hewn City and a Court of Dreams. But how to summarize such a wide range of experiences in one small answer?

            “You humans live very differently…so…vibrantly. Unashamed. Your lives are so beautiful, and yet so short. I suppose…it’s different when you are Fae. You forget that vibrancy, that unashamed will to live…It’s sometimes not even there…”

            It was an answer to a complicated question, and it seemed to soothe her curious mind.

            “We do live shorter lives. And are bolder because of it. More willing to risk.”

            I could smell something change about her as we walked together up to the palace gates. It was sweet and succulent. I wasn’t even sure if what I was smelling was really real, really her…

            “At least, you, maybe, perhaps, Andromache. The other five?” I laughed, lightheartedly poking fun at the other kings and queens and their seriousness. An attempt to change the subject. “Tell me more about your home?”

            We were not quite to the palace yet, still had a little time to pass before we reached it.

            “I’ve already told you many times about my home. What about yours?”

            I couldn’t talk about Velaris, of course. But I could talk about the Hewn City, despite that it wasn’t – hadn’t been – my home for many years.

            “The Night Court is beautiful, in its own dark way.”

            “Is it always night there?”

            I chuckled. “No. In some places, like the Hewn City, it might seem like it. But the city is under a mountain, so there’s that.”

            “Is that where you were born?”

            “Much to my loathing, yes.”

            “You didn’t like it there?”

            “Not particularly. The city itself has its own, dark, strange beauty, if you look closely. But otherwise, no. The people…their schemes…”

            “What about your parents?”

            A knot formed in my throat. What my father had done to me… Why I had done what I did…

            “I prefer not to talk about them.”

            “I understand,” she said, tucking her arm into mine as we continued our walk up to the palace. “If you ever get an itch to talk about them, let me know.”

            That scent lingered still, heightened when she looked up at me with sunshine in her amber eyes. I felt her body, warm against mine, her hairs standing on end, pupils dilated, heart racing… And that scent…remained.

            Andromache bid us goodbye in the courtyard, splitting off to the western wing of the palace. She took her bag from me, smiling, laughing, and saying goodbye. Felix finally caught up to me.

            I realized then, as he stood beside me, that the scent was still there.

            Felix coughed, getting my attention. “Lady Morrigan.” I turned to him. “She is…human.” I frowned at him, playing innocent, pretending to not quite catching his meaning. “I don’t have a problem with her being a woman, but she is…”

            “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I told him, baring my teeth at him.

            If Rhys knew, if he found out… He would have made some joke first about me being an overprotective territorial female. And then… I couldn’t even think of it. I wasn’t ready for that conversation. I wasn’t sure if I ever would be.

            “Of course, my lady.” Felix coughed again, to dampen the awkwardness, or because that _smell_ was so potent, I wasn’t sure. “Did you…want a minute before meeting our guest?”

            No. No, I did not. I wanted this all to be over. And I wanted Andromache to stop haunting me, her scent lingering on me, her face in my mind, the brush of her golden curls against my shoulder, the feel of her skin as her arm looped through mine…

            _Cauldron…_

            “Yes. I’ll meet you there.”

            In my chambers, I splashed my face with water and changed from my trousers and shirt to a light summer dress. Even when I was done, ready to go meet with whomever I was meeting, I needed a moment further. The mirror held no answers as I beheld myself, as I asked myself again and again and again… _What is wrong with me?_ Despite that I knew the answer.

            The Truth was a rock sitting in the pit of my stomach; that I had romantic feelings for a young human queen and my heart did not know what to do about it.

…

            “Azriel!” I excitedly launched myself into his arms. Regardless of what I knew he felt for me, he was still a friend, and a friendly face in this world of human ones.

            “Mor.”

            His voice was gentle. Shadows slithered over his shoulders after he separated from the embrace. He looked tired, his blue syphons a dim cobalt in their settings. Lines displayed themselves in the draw of his cheeks. His wings slumped a bit lower than normal, looked like a burden he carried.

            “What are you doing here?” I asked.

            “I’ve come to take your guardsmen with me back to Prythian. They’re each being recalled by their high lords to report on the situation here.”

            “And Rhysand sent you here to collect me?” I asked, crossing my arms, already formulating a tongue lashing for my cousin once I saw him again to chide him for making me come all the way over here only to take me back before my job was completed.

            “No. You’re to stay here. He has faith in you. Asked me only to tell you to send more letters reporting on the meetings and your progress.”

            “That I can do. I’m sure he’s busy though. And you too, Az. You look tired…”

            He lifted an eyebrow at me, a shadow slinking down his arm to twine around a scarred finger. “There’s too much to do. Not enough time for it.”

            I felt the weight of the words when he said them. Thought of battles on bloody fields and burning forests and butchered humans and Hybern’s monsters…

            “Speaking of…”

            Felix and the rest of my guardsman came into the open-air courtyard, their bags packed and ready.

            “How are we doing this, Azriel?” Felix asked.

            “You’re leaving already?” I asked my guardsmen, a few of them my new friends.

            “Like I said, Mor, too much to do, and not enough time.” Azriel nodded to the guardsmen, who pressed in around me.

            I said my goodbyes. Felix came to me. He said nothing. Offered his hand, a small nod, and a kind smile. I feared what he might say, what he might report, for half a second before he turned away. Felix had become a friend. I didn’t think he would betray me.

            We finished our goodbyes and with a whisper of wind, Azriel and my guardsmen were gone, leaving me alone in the courtyard. Alone on the other side of the world.

            Alone.


	6. Come What May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, fluff. You'll love it, I promise.

            Weeks dribbled past. Summer turned to autumn. The weather cooled, the sun sank lower quicker in the evenings, and the leaves changed their colors.

            I sent my letters to Rhysand, reporting on the minimal progress I made with each meeting. I wrote about the humans, their way of life, their customs and culture that were springing into life slowly but surely. And he sent letters in return, few and far between, but I read them, devoured them, each time they came to me.

            He wrote of the War. The massacres. The short-lived moments of victory. Hybern’s atrocities. Amarantha’s ruthlessness. The way that some of the courts came together. He wrote about Jurian and Miryam, Drakon and his horde of Seraphim, Nephelle and her wife…

            It became harder for me to spend time with Andromache in the presence of others. Of course, I could remain professional, refer to her as “your Majesty” and “my queen”, but it felt so strange, so out of place. When we were alone together, or as alone as her guards would allow us to be, we used our first names. She touched me; often looping her arm into mine as we walked around the gardens together, her hand touching mine as we sat together eating at a meal, her foot brushing against my leg when she sat close to me at our meetings…

            Cauldron. It was becoming too much.

            As the leaves and seasons changed, Andromache grew more into her role as queen. She flourished, becoming respected and loved by the people of the tiny capitol city. And the other five, save Vestus, sniveled and groveled and sneered at her.

            Rain pattered overhead as we stood together at the solemn funeral. The elder queen, skin tags and moles and gray hair, had recently passed in her sleep. Her daughter, a mousy, brown-haired female with sharp eyes, took her place.

            The daughter droned on and on about how wonderful a woman her mother had been. I wanted the funeral to be over.

            Andromache must have sensed it. As the funeral party stood together around the coffin already lowered into the ground, I felt Andromache slip her hand down into mine and squeeze it.

            A surge of electricity went through me at the contact, like the spark I felt when I first saw her.

            “Are you okay?” she whispered to me.

            Mother above, no. But I couldn’t tell her that.

            “I’m fine.” I gently peeled my hand out from hers.

            Not while we were surrounded by others, not while they could potentially see us. I felt like a pickled fish, stuffed into the small covering the humans had erected for the funeral to prevent the rain from washing us away. There was no way anyone had seen Andromache’s hand touch mine. But I couldn’t take that chance.

            She sighed as her hand withdrew. I could sense her disappointment. I gritted my teeth.

            Later that evening, the kings and queens attended the deceased queen’s wake. Andromache, of course, invited me.

            I attempted to stick to the corner of the room, sipping wine and chatting idly with Vestus.

            But, even wearing drab, black clothing, nothing could hide Andromache and her light from anyone. She was the picture of perfection. A lioness comforting her cubs. She consoled the young new queen, touched her hand, listened to her as she talked about her mother and wept.

            “You have to be careful,” Vestus mentioned to me.

            I hadn’t even realized, but I was staring at Andromache. Watching her. Perhaps a bit too closely. And Vestus was right.

            “The others will begin to take more notice if you aren’t careful, Morrigan.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Vestus frowned at me. He shook his head, sipped again from his wine. “She is loved by everyone. But soon they will see you watching her. They will notice too how you look at her.”

            “I don’t—”

            “Morrigan.”

            His look was hard. Stone-faced. Serious.

            My heart roiled, hard and fast inside my chest.

            He knew too. Vestus knew.

            “I thought your gift was Truth. But it seems you are lying to yourself.”

            I wanted to scream. Wanted to run away. Instead, I smiled at the king, teeth bared just a little bit, “It’s none of your, business, your Majesty.”

            A territorial, snarling female. That’s what I had become.

            I finished my wine, setting it on a passing platter, and then whirled out of the chamber.

            All I could think to myself was that Vestus was right.

…

            Despite the pouring rain, I found myself in the garden standing beneath the magnolia trees. The beautiful pink and white blossoms had long since bloomed, replaced by the yellow and orange leaves robing the trees in their autumn splendor.

            A reminder of life; its ebbs and flows, spring to summer to autumn to winter. I had seen over sixty-five seasons change, and still…

            Andromache was the only one who brought about true change in my life. Challenged me. Frightened me. Her Truth was bold and kind, her way of living even more so. She was not afraid. And I was…a cowering bitter fool, a territorial snarling female… She had forced me to this point, to confront myself.

            “I can’t…” I exhaled into the whispering ocean breeze, the rain pattering against the leaves.

            My chest tightened. It was hard to breathe…

_“No one touches her”_ , I heard the voice almost as clear as if he was saying the words to me at that moment. _“The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.” “But—but they_ nailed _a—” “No one touches her.”_

            I pressed my hand into my lower belly. Some nights I awoke from my nightmares, screaming, feeling the three nails that once pierced my womb.

            _“No one touches her.”_

            “Mor?”

            Before I could stop her, there she was, her hands taking mine. I wanted to withdraw, wanted to draw her closer, wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.

            “What’s wrong? I saw you talking to Vestus, then you… I don’t know what you did… But I was worried about you. What’s wrong, Mor?”

            “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

            “Do what? What are you talking about?”

            “I can’t pretend anymore,” I hissed, withdrawing from her. “I can’t.”

            A look crossed her face; hurt. Her sunshine faded, eyes dim, somehow her whole being diminished.

            “What are you pretending to be?”

            “Someone I’m not. Someone… I…” I laughed to myself, almost cruelly. “I can’t even say the words… I know in my heart, but the words themselves, I just can’t. And I can’t… I can’t _do this_.”

            I motioned to the space between us. Even in the rain, the damned air reeked of her scent, her desire for me. It flooded my nostrils, overloaded my senses. Made me a snarling territorial female…

            “Have you told anyone before?”

            It was such a simple question. It could have meant a million different things. But to me… I knew what she was asking.

            “No,” I relented.

            And with that, she had defused my anger, defused my panic.

            The human queen before me sighed. “It’s okay, Mor. I remember how it feels.” Andromache took a step closer, repealing the distance I had put between us. I didn’t move this time. “Have you even told yourself?”

            “Barely. I just…can’t. Or haven’t.”

            I noticed the rain then, finally, as it drenched my dress and sucked it against my body. And Andromache…Rain-drenched curls. The curve of her hips. The peaks of her breasts. Cauldron, I had to look away.

            “Let’s…go inside,” I suggested. “I’m soaked. And need a bath. Will you…come with me?”

            Andromache smiled, eyes lighting up once more. And she grabbed my outstretched hand. “Of course.”

…

            Once the both of us had changed into dry clothes, we sat together in my suite’s living room. A glass of wine sat in her hand, another in mine. I had already drunk half a bottle on my own in the tub. It gave me the courage to finally tell Andromache the truth.

            I told her everything. About my parents, my father, about sleeping with Cassian because I knew I couldn’t live a life married to Eris – or to any male. I told her about Azriel, about how he had found me in the woods on the border of the Autumn Court, and had pined for me long before even that. I told her about the spark I felt when she and I had first met. I told her about what she told me in the garden all those months ago about how she would have made the others decide to send me sooner if she knew it was going to be me. I told her about when I walked her back to her room that one night after serving dinner to my guardsmen. Andromache just listened to me.

            “I’ve known. That I prefer women over men. For a while. But…acting on it is something I’ve never been able to do. But now…” I shook my head, the words a little fuzzy, what I was trying to tell her not coming out right. “And I’ve known…about how I feel for you for a while too. But I’ve been too afraid. I’m such a coward. I always have been.”

            I finished my glass of wine and got up to pour another, because I couldn’t stand to sit there and have her look at me the way she was.

            “You’re not a coward, Mor.”

            I heard a rustling behind me, heard her pad over to where I stood, heard her breath as she stood behind me. Arms wrapped around me, stopping me from pouring more wine. I put the decanter back down, left my glass half-filled.

            Every beat of her heart felt like a lifetime. I heard it, felt it, pounding inside her chest as she held me. Her breathing a rhythmic beat, like the crash of the waves against a beach.

            “You’re so brave. You did what you did because you knew you couldn’t live a lie. You suffered for it. But you survived. You’re stronger than you realize. And you are not a coward.”

            I swallowed hard at the lump in my throat. “Then why do I feel like such a fraud every day of my life?”

            Andromache breathed in a deep sigh, her exhale blowing across my neck and making the little hairs stand on end. “You’re not a fraud either, Mor. You are beautiful, and strong, and braver than you think you are.”

            My hands grasped for her arms as her words sunk in.

            _Beautiful, strong, brave…_ But. _“No one touches her…”_

            So different. Perhaps different was what I needed.

            I turned in her arms. Andromache smiled at me and slid right into my embrace as soon I did. She held me. Tightly, but softly, gently, but close. Perhaps like no one else in my life ever had. Her chin tucked into the crook of my neck and shoulder, I smelt her hair, her scent. She smelled like…jasmine and honey. Succulent. Savory.

            _Cauldron_...

            “How is one so young so wise?” I asked her, chuckling, sliding my hands up over her shoulders, to her neck, framing her face with my hands.

            She withdrew far enough to look at me, laughter in her eyes, pinched scrutiny etched into her eyebrows. “I’m twenty-two years old, thank you! And…I don’t know. I’ve lived through a lot in my few years, compared to yours, of course.” She paused for a second and bit her lip. “How old are you even, Mor?”

            _Twenty-two._ That was it…I hardly remembered myself at her age. Hardly remembered that little girl…

            “I’m sixty-eight, actually.”

            Andromache smiled at me. “You wear your years well.”

            My hands slid to her cheeks, her freckles, the edges of her amber eyes. I was acutely aware of how close we were, our bodies pressed tightly together, her arms latched around me at my waist, my hands on her face. I realized I hadn’t been this close to anyone in a long time…

            “I…care about you, Andromache. So much.”

            And there it was. Not that one word. “Love”. Such a complicated word. But “care”. It was close enough. It suited us. Whatever we were. A Fae ambassador and a human queen. A dreamer and a lioness.

            “I care about you too, Mor.”

            My eyes saw her lips. Without hesitating, I leaned into her, eyes closing, and I kissed her.

            The kiss was so _hungry_ – lips and teeth and tongues lashing. I found myself pushing hard into her, harder than she could withstand, and suddenly her back was against the wall. The kiss opened something feral, possessive within me; something that had lain dormant for years. My hand slid down to her leg, dragging it up to hitch over my hip. She moaned at the contact, breathless with each kiss and peck and bite.

            Andromache pressed a hand against my chest, solid, stopping me.

            “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized, moving my hands back to her face to look down into her amber eyes. My forehead pressed to hers and I caught my breath. “I’m sorry.”

            “I’m not, Mor. I’m just…I’m a little more fragile than you,” she reminded me, her own hands coming up to frame my cheeks, brushing an idle finger through my hair to tuck back a stray strand.

            “Right. Sorry.”

            “Shh. It’s okay.”

            She was the one who initiated the next kiss. The one who bit my lower lip. The one who stuck her tongue in my mouth, who slid her hands up beneath my nightshirt to touch my belly. Her fingertips dusted over the band of the loose trousers I wore. I heard her breath hitch, felt her pull me closer against the wall. I slammed a hand against the stucco to steady myself, almost certain I heard a crack at the contact.

            “Andromache…” Her name came off my lips like a prayer to the Mother.

            Her mouth moved to my ear. “Yes, Mor?”

            A shiver ran up my spine. I could have melted then and there. Heat pooled into my core listening to her say my name in such a sultry way.

            Andromache’s lips kissed my face, down my jawline, to my neck, back up to my ear.

            I shivered again at the contact.

            Her scent rolled off her, heavy, luscious. Not just jasmine and honey, but the scent of her arousal.

            A realization struck me then – I wanted her. Carnally.

            But a second realization came with it; I was not ready yet.

            It took me a second, but I cleared my throat and started to loosen my grip on her. “Andromache…”

            “Yes, Mor?” she purred again, her face coming out from the crook of my neck for our eyes to meet once more.

            “For as much as I want to…with you… I don’t think that I’m…ready yet.”

            I could tell she was a little disappointed in the sag of her shoulders when I said the words, but she smiled at me and said, “That’s okay. I know it’s been quite the day for you. I understand.”

            “Thank you.” I kissed her nose, then her lips.

            Her leg slid back down to the floor. Andromache began to extract herself from my grasp, but I held onto her hand, and pulled her back to the lengthy couch in front of the fireplace to sit down together. Our hands stayed connected, fingers interlaced together, and we sat snuggled together on the cushions.

            Between my own arousal and the high of my multiple confessions and the freedom that came with their release, I wasn’t sure if the choice to not have sex with Andromache in that moment was the right one. My feral side said no. But my rational, emotional side said yes. It would be better. Hopefully we would have time for that. Once my heart was truly ready for that.

            “I don’t want to pry, but you said you’ve never acted on your feelings for another woman before?” It was more of a statement than a question, but I understood what Andromache was trying to ask.

            “It’s okay,” I told her, my thumb grazing over the back of her hand. “No. I never have. I haven’t found anyone. Except you.”

            “And none of your friends, your family…they don’t know either?”

            “No. I’ve…wanted to tell them. But I can’t find it in me. Like I said before, I’m afraid.”

            “Of what they’ll think?”

            I shrugged. “Possibly. I’m sure…that they wouldn’t actually care that I preferred women over men, but I just don’t want them to look at me differently. I’ve had enough of that from others.”

            She nodded. “I see.”

            “What about you? Your friends? Your family? You don’t have brothers or sisters, but what about the people you’re close to from your camp?”

            “They know. It’s…a little different being a human slave versus being a High Fae lady of a court.”

            Andromache seemed so casual about it. I couldn’t even imagine!

            “Like I’ve told you before, our human lives are shorter, so we live without caution when it comes to relationships. It’s better to have lived and loved, than to not love at all; because it’s not worth living if you’re without love. Whatever kind of love that means.”

            She was fierce as she spoke the words. I wanted to kiss her again. Instead, I licked my lips, inquired, “If it’s okay for me to ask… Have you ever…loved another woman?”

            Her smile was sad as she nodded at me. “I guess you could say so. Her name was Kore. She was a slave girl in the same camp as me. We grew up together. We were friends for most of our lives. Then one day, things changed for us. We became lovers. More. But, in the riots that led to our freedom she was wounded. The wound didn’t heal, and she didn’t get better. I tried everything to save her, but short of magic, there was nothing I could do.”

            My heart ached. To hear that Andromache had lost her first love to such a horrible demise…

            “I’ve…been lovers with other women since, but… It’s not the same.” Andromache’s expression turned again, from reverie, and she beamed at me. This close, her freckles stood out stark against her umber skin. She was so beautiful. “And then I met you, Morrigan of the Night Court, and here we are.” She brought a finger up to trace my lips.

            “Here we are,” I echoed. “Come what may.”

            “I want to kiss you all night long,” she giggled, moving herself to sit in my lap.

            “Oh, and so do I, my queen!”

            Our lips met once more in a heated kiss. And it seemed, maybe if for just a moment of my life, that everything came together as it was meant to.


	7. A Journey South

**Chapter Seven: A Journey South**

            Even with the fire roaring in the dining hall fireplace the air was crisp, puffs of warm air leaving the faces of those who took too deep a breath or spoke. The walls of the palace were insulated, but the fire had not been lit until after we were all in attendance.

            Cruel, I thought, to make us all sit here and try not to freeze.

            It would have been much nicer to snuggle up to Andromache, but of course, that wasn’t going to happen. As it was, she sat across the table from me, her tiny form wrapped in layers of black and silver furs. I tucked the image away in my mind; a sight that made me chuckle, her face and hair the only visible things poking out from the mound of furs.

            “Now that we have settled a few things, we may proceed with discussing the finer terms of a potential treaty with the Fae,” said the hook-nosed king.

            “How about a wall to separate those beasts from us?” the dark-haired queen crowed.

            I grit my teeth. We were not all beasts. But I couldn’t change her mind. Some people would never understand.

            The mention of a wall made the Six perk up. A few cast glances at me, Andromache for much longer than the rest.

            “A wall would take hundreds of years to build,” Vestus chimed in. “So many resources, so many humans. We would still be fighting the damn war.”

            “So perhaps not an actual wall?” the new queen, the brown-haired mousy one asked. “What about one made with magic?”

            They all turned to me then.

            I cleared my throat. What they were asking was…impossible. Almost. It would require more inquiries. But…

            “Is a wall really what you want between us? Not a peace treaty? Magic oaths can be forged between our peoples.”

            “Our people die much quicker than yours, Lady Morrigan. What’s the use in making a pact between a dead person and one who will live potentially forever?”

            “An oath could be tied to a bloodline as well. A group of people. The possibilities are endless.”

            The black-haired queen squinted. “I’m not so certain about an oath so much as I am certain about putting a barrier between your kind and mine.”

            “A barrier made of magic. If that’s your idea, your Majesties, it will take time and more inquiries on my part. Resources to be gathered. And more details to be discussed between all of us.”

            “Then you make your inquiries, Lady Morrigan, and we will make ours,” the hook-nosed king humphed.

            I only nodded my understanding.

            What they were asking was not necessarily impossible, but improbable. It would take hundreds of magic-casters, perhaps years of fine-tuned spellwork, energy sources, time, money… Not impossible, but difficult.

            “If that is settled then, I have something to bring forth in this meeting.” Vestus sat up a little straighter, folding his hands together before him on the table. The other five turned their attention to him.

            “I recently received a letter from a self-proclaimed lord in the southern part of the Continent. He is a wealthy merchant. He has an army. He also has a daughter who I have agreed to meet, with the eventual intention to marry to form an alliance between her father and the six of us.”

            “What does he promise in return for the marriage?”

            “His army and resources in the war. He has a fleet of ships. And he has also been using his merchants as spies in Prythian to collect information about Hybern and his soldiers.”

            “That’s good. Will you do it, Vestus?”

            He nodded. I saw the Phoenix there within him once again – the Truth about him; his fall, his death, and his rise from the ashes. “I will do whatever it takes to help our people. I can help our people by doing this.”

            “I would like to join you,” said Andromache, her first comment in the entirety of the meeting. “If this lord will allow it.”

            “I will tell him you are coming, Queen Andromache. He can’t very well refuse his king, or his queen. And I think you should come with us, Lady Morrigan. To show that there can be peace between our kinds.”

            Vestus’s cerulean blue eyes met mine. I nodded but didn’t quite understand what his intentions were in having me go along. Perhaps maybe to do what he said. Or to simply keep company with him and Andromache. Or just Andromache.

            “I would be honored to join you, my king,” I replied.

            “Then it’s settled. We leave in two days.”

            The hook-nosed king added, “Very well. Is there anything else that needs to be brought to the meeting?”

            Silence.

            I glanced over at Andromache, to see if her expression held any clues as to why I had been invited on the trip. But her face was mute, and there was no hint of anyone’s intentions.

            “Then the meeting is adjourned.”

            As soon as the meeting closed, the servants came in with trays of food for the night’s dinner. I sat at my spot, intermittently eyeballing the Six. I did manage to catch Andromache’s eye. She smiled at me and then continued eating her dinner.

            Perhaps it was all just good intentions.

…

            After dinner, I slunk back to my room alone, chewing on my thoughts.

            A wall? It was…absurd. Unnecessary.

            But I understood the humans’ fear. A little of it, at least. The Fae had done horrible, inexcusable, monstrous things to the humans. They wanted nothing to do with us, now that they were free. But they still needed us. Those, at least, who were sympathetic to their cause. And even then, deep-seeded fear and mistrust were obstacles to overcome.

            I poured myself a glass of wine then sat down at the work desk within my suite. Piled atop the desk were mounds of papers, transcripts, accounts, drafts, and letters made of various modes of writing. The newest addition to the desk was a crisply folded white parchment letter, sealed with the mountain and stars of the Night Court in black wax.

            As usual, I took the letter in hand and disenchanted the various spells and wards Rhys placed over his missives. Once that was completed, I opened the letter.

            More about the War, of course. More questions for me. An update on the Court of Dreams, on Velaris, the Hewn City, my parents. And Felix, one of my guardsmen who had traveled with me to the Continent, who had become a friend in a distant place, and who knew about how I felt for Andromache.

            Felix was dead.

            I had inquired about him in my last letter, and the rest of my guardsmen, but Felix’s name and the mention of his death stood out to me most of all. He was the only one who knew, and I never had time to explain myself, only to deny…

            I would never know if he told anyone else.

            I must have sat with the letter in my hands for quite a while, because I soon heard a knock on my door, and then heard it open and a body slide into the room. I looked up to see who it was, but I already knew.

            She smiled at me at first, but then her smile faded when she saw me holding the letter.

            “What’s wrong, Mor?” she asked, her eyebrows pinching in that tight concern that she always showed when she was worried.

            “Do you remember Felix, one of the guardsmen who came with me? He was the tall Night Court one, kind of somber but crass and a little funny.”

            Andromache nodded. “Yes. He taught me that fancy knife trick that not even you could do.”

            That was a story for another time, a memory of the days before the guardsmen left, the summer when the heat was unbearable and practicing in the morning was the only option…

            “He died. In the War. They just told me.”

            Her face dropped even more. “Oh, how sad. Did he have any family?”

            “A sister who lived on the western coast of the Night Court, but that was it.”

            “That’s too bad. He will be missed.”

            War was poison. It spread and spread and spread and consumed everything in its path. Over on the Continent, it was a world away to me. But now it had reached me in a different way.

            “Before, when I heard of the Fae and humans who died in the War, it was always…distant. Now…it’s different. Closer.”

            “Even though your family is fighting in it? Even though they risk their lives every day?”

            Andromache came closer to me, settling her hand onto my shoulder. I could smell her even more then, jasmine and honey, and the touch of her hand was warm against my flesh. She was so kind, so thoughtful, so caring…

            “Well, none of them is dead…”

            “You became close to Felix?”

            “He became a friend, yes.”

            “Maybe you can write to his sister, then, tell her about how wonderful he was and how you knew him.”

            “Yeah. I might. That’s a good idea.”

            I stirred from my stupor then, and looked up at her, hand on my shoulder, amber eyes bright as she stared down at me in a way no one ever had before, setting my heart on fire.

            “I thought…I usually go to your room.”

            Well, winnowed to her room, that was. It was more secure, less chance of anyone noticing us sneaking around each other’s rooms late at night. And after all the wards I had set up around her room it was one of the safest places in the palace.

            “Yes, but tonight I didn’t feel like staying there. I needed to get out.”

            “Did anyone see you come here?”

            “My guards. They’re outside.”

            Ah yes, the two dimwits who’d been assigned to make sure Andromache was always safe. I had pointed out several times – after many occasions of messing with them – that they were a waste of time and money and air. Neither of them knew anything about fighting a Fae, had never fought one before, had never even actually picked up a sword to fight at all. They sparred with the other guards of course, but they were as harmless as puppies, young, untested, and weak. Andromache needed real guards, not children with wooden swords.

            They were also incredibly gullible. A fact that even Andromache – for all the kindness and goodness she had in her heart – took advantage of by messing with them, being sarcastic, not giving the full story.

            I let it happen, because it was _a little_ funny.

            “What did you tell them?”

            “That I was going to work on the treaty you were writing.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. They believe me. And no one suspects anything, Mor, so you don’t have to be so suspicious all the time.”

            She planted a kiss on my forehead as I rolled my eyes. Andromache strutted over to the long couch in the center of the suite and threw off her layers of furs before plopping into the cushions.

            “I stay suspicious to protect us both.”

            “Yes,” she sighed quietly as she rubbed a hand over her eyes and yawned into the ceiling. “I know.”

            “And you should be more suspicious, dear, or at least careful.”

            “What’s the worst they could do?” she laughed, sounding a little frustrated, voice tight.

            “They could take your crown from you. Your land. Your people. Something. They could send me away. There’s a lot they could do.”

            “I’m not going to live my life in fear of them. They don’t own me. Nor do they own you.”

            “I’m not saying we need to be afraid of them, Andromache, I’m saying we need to be careful.”

            Her arms fell back to the couch, framing her head and golden curls. Her chest rose and fell a few times as she took in a few deep breaths.

            This was not a new discussion. It was one we had gone through several times over the few months we had been together. My opinion remained the same, and Andromache always said the same thing as well.

            “I know your concern, Mor.” Her words were even and slow. She sat up from the couch and looked at me, eyes bright and intense, piercing. “But I’m tired of this conversation. It’s always the same.”

            I stood and walked over to her, taking my time. When I stood in front of her I touched her chin between my forefinger and thumb, caressing my way up to her cheek, which I held so that our gazes met.

            “I care about you too much to let you slip through my fingers, Andromache.”

            Her hand slipped into my free one and she tugged me gently down to sit on the couch beside her.

            “I won’t, Mor. I promise.”

            I mused then over her finiteness, her mortality, and how one day – if we ever got that far – she would slip through my fingers into the quiet sleep of death. It was not a promise for her to make.

            But I was tired of the conversation too, so I pulled her into my arms and held her.

…

            The change of the seasons meant a change of location in where I practiced my forms and sparred in the morning. And it meant that a few of the humans who had started out with me and my guardsmen were no longer there. All that remained of the group of curious humans wanting to know how to fight like Fae were Andromache, Vestus, and a handful of their soldiers.

            We practiced in the frosty barracks courtyard, whereas before my guardsmen and I had been allocated to the lower part of the gardens, away from the hubbub of the palace. It was early morning, sun not yet crested over the gray horizon. A fair, pretty morning. Sparkles of ice and frost glittered in the low glow. Snuffs of winter air whipped throughout the courtyard, chilling our bones and the blades in our hands.

            I had been instructing and guiding and practicing for an hour already. My underclothes were damp from sweat, a frosty sheen slicked to my brow.

            Andromache and Vestus worked together to perfect the move that Felix had taught to Andromache months ago, something he had learned amongst my father’s Darkbringers. But without him here to teach it – as he never would be able to again – it was more difficult. And yet, Andromache persisted in perfecting the move.

            Vestus was visibly frustrated; teeth gritted, sweat shining on his face, his stance and posture tight and unforgiving. But he was gracious enough to continue to let her try. In fact, everyone was looking a little tired. I thought that perhaps it would be best to cut off the session before anyone snapped.

            Just as I was about to say something, Andromache made her move; sabre twirling with her body in a beautiful dance of death and destruction and darkness. Vestus, flustered, backed away, hesitated, and was met with the blunt edge of a practice sabre against his cold hands. The sabre dropped to the ground, clanging against the stones.

            He cursed. Wildly at first, then hushed, and cursed to himself. Andromache moved to console him, but he pushed her away. At first. She tried again, saying she was sorry, and Vestus allowed it. She apologized. Vestus cursed, laughed, and accepted the apology. He deemed the damage unworthy of seeing the physician – or even of requiring her own attention – shook his hands and told her not to worry. Rather, he complimented her, told her that with every day her form improved, her movement more fluid, more believable.

            I saw he was hurt, though he tried to diminish it.

            Terse words left my lips as I dismissed everyone. Andromache looked back at me for a moment, a proud smile upon her face, and then she ducked away to follow her guards back into the palace.

…

            “Ah, careful, careful,” Vestus hissed as he revealed his clearly broken hand to me.

            Purple and blue mottled fingers, knuckles engorged from inflammation, the middle three fingertips twisted in opposite directions of where they were _supposed_ to go. I tossed the linen wrap onto my piled-up desk and carefully pried his hand open to survey the damage.

            “Now, I’m no healer like Andromache is, but I can definitely tell you that you broke _something_ ,” I chuckled.

            “You think?”

            “Why lie to her? Why pretend?”

            His eyes snapped up to meet mine as I summoned the blue healing magic from within my bones.

            “She’s spent most of the summer trying that form. I wasn’t going to take her success away from her because I was a coward and let my guard down.”

            “You’re not a coward, Vestus, to move away from the fury of a goddess.” I laughed as the light flowed around his hand, tendrils wrapping around the warped fingers and correcting them.

            “Well, even so, I flinched, and it cost me my hand.”

            “You’re lucky we’re friends, Vestus, otherwise you’d be on your own.”

            He smiled at me. “It’s nice to see this side of you, Morrigan. She brings out the good in you.”

            “She brings out the good in everyone,” I responded, feeling the warm rush in my cheeks and neck. I coughed, wanting to change the subject. Yes, he was a friend and I trusted him, but… “What about you? Your lady? Have you even met her?”

            “No,” he sighed, looking back down at his hand as it was slowly mended by the blue knitting light of my magic. “To be honest, Morrigan, I’m terrified. Not that she’s a horrible person, or ugly, or anything like that… I’m afraid that I might fail her. Or my people.”

            I frowned at him. “You’re a good man, Vestus. You won’t fail anyone.”

            “I’m still a man. I am…imperfect.”

            My mending slowed as the magic flowed into the tendons and ligaments of his hand. Precise repairs needed to be made, therefore the flow of magic waned to pay more attention to the details. I felt the flow tighten, focus on the cartilage and sinew as it fixed what was broken.

            Truth once again reared its head, showing me that there was more to this man’s story; a phoenix born out of ashes of his former life, but what kind of life did he live before?

            “Are you afraid because you have failed in the past, Vestus?”

            He gave a slow nod. “Yes. I was…not a good man, at one point in my life.”

            “What did you do? It can’t be that bad.”

            Cerulean eyes flashed back up once more to mine. In them I saw his story unfold.

            “I used to be bounty hunter for the Fae. I tracked down their runaway slaves, my people, humans. I…hurt them, killed them if they wouldn’t come quietly… The Fae paid me. And that was all I cared about. Not even about another person’s life. Just my own.”

            _The crack of a leather whip, heavy iron chains clasped around necks and ankles and wrists, brands of fire into flesh, screams that pierced and echoed into the night…_

            “What happened? How did you end up here?”

            His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard before answering. “I tracked down a group of runaway children. _Children_. Not more than twelve years of age. When I returned them to their master, the overseer began to beat them. They were just _children_ … And whatever scrap of humanity I had left in me broke. I killed the overseer with my bare hands. It sparked a revolution that had been kindling for years before I even came to that master’s house. After that, the humans made me their leader. I still don’t understand, but here I am.”

            Even if he didn’t, I understood then; Vestus was indeed a phoenix. His death was his own doing, his blind pursuit of money and favor instead of a heart for his people. His rise from the ashes was redemption in disguise, when he killed the overseer.

            The magic in his hand blinked out as the repair completed.

            Vestus flexed his fingers, made a fist, then opened his hand palm up.

            “Thank you,” he said, “for healing me and for listening.”

            “I can see why you’re afraid, Vestus, but you’re not that man that you were before.”

            “I appreciate it, Morrigan, but I know who I am. That man is always somewhere still within me. And I fear his return every day.”

            “Well, that man has a perfectly good hand now. Just make sure you don’t break it again.”

            “No promises. And, thank you, Morrigan.”

            “You’re welcome.” Vestus nodded, turned to leave the suite, but I called his name. He turned. “Why do you want me going with me? To see this lord?”

            A smirk crooked the corner of his mouth. “For one, you _are_ my friend, and if I’m going to marry a stranger, it’ll be nice to have a friend with me. And…it’s true, what I said earlier. It shows that there can be friendship between us. And in some cases, _more_.”

            My eyebrow rose.

            “You can ask your lovely lady about the other reasons,” he laughed as he again turned and exited the suite.

            I would certainly have to do just that.

…

            It was a rather beautiful scene; the human soldiers armed with their tall ash spears and shields, the large white carriage headed by a herd of black and bay draught horses, the snow swirling about us, the red fox furs lounging on Andromache’s shoulders, the way her guards stood straight and tall as Vestus helped her into the carriage…

            We hadn’t had a chance to talk since the night when she came to my suite. The other nights she was called away. I still wasn’t even certain why. She was also unable to join us for morning training. I saw her at our meetings and we made simple, friendly conversation at our meals when we were in attendance with the others. I had hoped to take a walk with her in the afternoon, but the weather turned foul on me and rained down a torrent of sleet and hail both days.

            And, to top it off, I had been selected to ride astride the carriage on our way south instead of joining Andromache and Vestus inside. The commander of the guard insisted, and the sentiment had been echoed by the planning committee, under the pretense of the fact that I was Fae and that alone was a deterrent to any other potential predators. Neither Vestus nor Andromache were present for the planning, so I was at the mercy of the commander.

            At least they had given me a good horse. A chestnut mare with gold thread wound into her mane, a youngling three summers old. “Pyros”, my favorite brown-eyed stable boy called her as he handed me her reigns. I smelt not an ounce of fear in her blood; even as I stroked her neck and mounted her. Rather, I felt the readiness, the surge, the adrenaline, within her. She was fire indeed.

            Once we were all mounted, counted, and the commander deemed us ready, we headed out of the palace courtyard, waving at the other four monarchs as they stood on the steps. Out of the palace courtyard, we headed down the chilly streets of Sunstead for the wintry road leading south to our destination.

            For a while, I listened to the guards as they chatted idly. They complained about everything; the weather, their gear and uniforms, their going south on this trip, the lack of alcohol, the supposed senselessness of their journey… It was an endless cycle of insanity. After two hours, I warded my horse to drown out their chatter.

            I took in the scenery; the rolling white hills, the plain sludgy muddy road ahead of us. The Continent had its own beauty, I supposed. Nothing like Velaris. But it had its charms nonetheless.

            After a few more hours’ ride, the carriage came to a slow and eventual halt. The guards stirred, and of course complained that we were stopping, until Vestus stepped out of the carriage. He stretched his arms over his head, yawned, tucked his fur-lined cloak tighter around his shoulders, then called to me.

            “Lady Morrigan, may I trouble you to switch seats with me? I’m terribly cramped from riding in that damn carriage.”

            My mare moved towards Vestus. “If you’re certain, my king. It’s quite chilly outside.”

            He waved a hand. “I’m not worried about the cold, but your concern is heartwarming, my lady.”

            I dismounted Pyros, passed the reigns to Vestus, and then stepped towards the carriage as Vestus moved around me to mount my horse. Once inside the carriage, I pulled the door shut, heard Vestus pound the side paneling, and then the crack of the whip and the creak of wheels as we continued our journey.

            Inside the carriage was little warmer than outside, but when I looked at Andromache that hardly mattered. She warmed my heart and set fire to my blood every time I saw her.

            “Mor,” she sighed, reaching across the way to grab my face with her glove-clad hands and kiss me like she hadn’t seen me in years.

            My heart swelled with warmth and joy, her very essence of light and comfort transferring to me in the simple gesture of a kiss. This time, she smelt like cinnamon and leather. Golden curls rushed into my fingers as I deepened the kiss, cradling the back of her head. I felt a light touch of her tongue, and then one more peck on the lips, before she pulled back far enough for us to stare each other in the eyes. Andromache smiled from ear to ear at me. It was enough to make me blush.

            “You’re so lovely when you blush, Mor,” she giggled, nipping at my cherry-red nose with her teeth.

            Of course, it made me blush again, which made her smile even brighter, her eyes lit like celestial starlight.

            “I’ve missed you,” I cooed, crossing the bench to sit beside her and pull her body against mine. I planted a kiss on her forehead.

            “I missed you too. I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you. And that I didn’t send word to you either. I know you’re worried about us being suspicious…”

            “It’s fine, Andromache. I know you’re busy.”

            “Don’t you have some sort of magic trick to make it easier for us to communicate?”

            I thought of my cousin and his secret drawer of magical pens he used at times, particularly when we were children together. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll work on it as soon as we get back.”

            She looked up again at me. “Good.”

            “So… what _did_ you have to do that kept you so busy?”

            Andromache snuggled deeper into my side as she told me about her tumultuous last two days, starting from after training when she unknowingly broke Vestus’ hand.

            With the first snowfall, refugees had come pouring into the city. She had been asked to attend to the sick and wounded. Aside from that, other matters popped up; soldiers were found after having deserted their posts, and the Six needed to decide their punishment. The city’s grain stores were getting lower and lower and one silo had been overtaken by a nest of rats. The Six again had to decide what to do about it. A report from one of the northern ports arrived that a ship filled with Fae had landed nearby and then disappeared shortly after. Attempts to track the Fae had been made, but to no avail. Mostly, Andromache had been tending to the ailments of the refugees into the wee hours of the morning.

             I noticed then the droop of her eyelids, the pull of exhaustion in the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. She had to be so tired. She was so mortal, so finite, so fragile…

            “Are you okay?” I asked her, lacing our gloved fingers together. With my other hand I affectionately brushed a golden curl out of her eyes.

            “I’m tired, but yes, Mor, I’m okay.”

            I kissed her forehead once more and asked, “Did you want to sleep for the rest of the trip?”

            “We still have another day and a half of travel before we get there.”

            “And?”

            She paused for a second. “And yes, I would like to try and get some rest.”

            Andromache put her head against my shoulder. “I think that’s a good idea,” I told her, and loosed her hand to wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me.

            I still had questions, but I could ask those later.

…

            That night, we stopped at the manor of a banker. His manor was perched atop a hill from defensible position, and thus it had been chosen as our stay for the night. It was also able to house the twenty of us on the journey, with enough rooms for us all as well as space for the six draught horses and the various others brought along.

            We arrived just after sunset, met the banker and his little family, were rushed to our rooms to change, and then dined with the family in their great hall. It was a decent meal, albeit humble: wild turkey, roasted corn, artichoke salad, and a small collection of buttery pastries for dessert.

            Vestus and Andromache stayed at the table later than I did, excusing myself shortly after the plates were removed from the table by the staff. The banker’s wife also excused herself, along with his five small children.

            In my room, I performed my travel ritual of warding my room – even creeping away to ward Vestus’ and Andromache’s rooms – and cleaning my gear, sharpening my swords and knives, and then pulling my small bottle of Velarisian portwine from the storage space in between worlds and settling in to sip it and stare at the fire.

            I sipped and stared for about an hour before I heard a knock on my door. Guessing that it was Andromache, and pleasantly pleased when I opened the door and saw that it was, I left the portwine out.

            She crept into my room and took a seat in the chair I had been sipping and staring in.

            “How was it?” I asked her.

            “Oh, you mean our after-dinner conversation?” I nodded. She shrugged and began pulling her furs from her shoulders. One by one they flopped to the floor. “It was fine. The banker is a kind but shrewd man. He also has more money than he admits or lets onto. Since our coffers are essentially empty, both Vestus and I decided to stop here to talk business with the man.” As she spoke, the furs continued to drop until she sat in just her dark gray overdress.

            Watching her take off her furs was one of the most sensual experiences I had witnessed. My throat tightened as I once again noticed the curve of her waist and her breasts and her neck, the freckles, the golden hair… I cleared my throat. “And?”

            Andromache helped herself to my little glass and what was left of the portwine. With a chuckle after draining the glass, she said to me, “We were successful, at least. He’ll give us a loan with no interest, which is what we needed.”

            “That’s good.” I grabbed the glass from her hand and filled it once more with the syrupy sweet red wine and then handed it back to her, trying desperately not to stare at her breasts and instead focus on her face.

            _Cauldron damn me._ “Are your guards outside?”

            “Just Cleo.” The female and the more intelligent of Andromache’s nitwit guards. An eyebrow rose in suspicion as she sipped at her freshly filled glass. “Why do you ask?”

            “Because I’ve been waiting for two days to kiss you,” I growled, my voice low and feral and seductive. Heat raced along my neck and arms, coursing through my body into lower reaches as the words left my mouth.

             She set the glass back on the table beside her. “Then what are you waiting for?”

            A snarl escaped me as I grabbed her from out of the chair by her rump and a giggle left her lips as I tossed her on the bed. Immediately, I was on top of her, braced on all fours, and I kissed her, hard, hungry, and she returned the fervor. She tasted sweet as wine and smelt like spice and salt and snow.

            Andromache said goodnight an hour later, after we had kissed and touched and teased but not any further. Cleo bid me goodnight as well, waving as she escorted her charge down the hallway to her room.

            I fell back into my bed, my heart full of desire and lust and passion and affection and care and wanting more of her. Sleep would not come to me as I spent most of the night thinking about her and wondering if she was doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started getting long so I had to split it up. More to come. Also Vestus is an OC, obviously, but in case no one noticed he's also Vassa's ancestor. Please comment and review. <3


	8. Sound and Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." William Shakespeare, "Macbeth"

            My travel companion, Pyros, was antsy the morning we left. She continuously nickered and neighed and squeaked her displeasure. I smelt an ounce of fear in her, unlike the day before.

            “What’s wrong, girl?” I asked her, petting her neck and trying to soothe her with my touch.

            Unfortunately, she had no words to tell me, just her constant fidgeting. I sent a spear of inquiry out into the world beyond our traveling caravan but sensed nothing. And that was the problem. There was nothing. No birds in the sky, no mice in their burrows, no badgers hunting, no deer seeking a creek to drink from…

            We were midway through our journey that day, about fifteen miles from the banker’s manor. Andromache sat inside the carriage along with Vestus. The human guards talked and ate and didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong.

            But I knew something was. Pyros did too. She nickered and strained against her reins. “It’s going to be all right, girl,” I told her, urging her forward to speak to the captain of the guard leading the caravan.

            “Something isn’t right,” I told him, hoping he heard the strain and urgency plaguing my voice.

            “What do you mean?” the man asked.

            “The horses are uneasy. And I don’t hear anything. No birds, no animals… Nothing.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I am.”

            He cursed beneath his breath. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, with no cover… Shit.” A puff of cold wintry air left his mouth as he sighed. “All right. Lady Morrigan, you cover the back of the caravan, be our eyes and ears. And no matter what happens, don’t let them die.”

            I nodded and spurred Pyros to the back of the caravan. The guards looked up at me, confusion in their eyes, and then to the captain who began barking orders at them. They pulled their swords from their sheaths, ash arrows from their quivers, lances falling into defensive positions. The carriage driver yelled at his horses, snapped the reins, and the carriage set off at a quicker pace. As if that would somehow help us.

            As I neared the end of the caravan, over the crest of the hill behind us I spotted a lone dark figure. My breath staggered in my chest as the one figure was joined by a host of more.

            I began to knit wards on the carriage, more than I had already; wards of protection from fire, rain, stone, wind, earthquake… Wards against spells of destruction, instant death… A balloon of wards grew and bubbled around the carriage, casting a protective shadow over the nearby guards. I hoped it would be enough to ward us against whatever was coming.

            I sent another spear of inquiry out into distance between the host on the hill and the caravan. My heart quickened when I sensed them – sinister and dark and horrible.

            A flash of darkness later, and I heard a scream from a guard behind me. The human collapsed to his knees, blood gurgling out of his mouth. A three-pronged trident stuck out from his chest, crimson trickling down his scale armor. The Fae holding the trident grinned evilly at me and sneered as he pulled it back through, the human slumping to the snowy mud in a bloody heap.

            The rest of the Fae on the hill winnowed in, wisps of darkness across the plain. The human captain of the guard screamed, “Fight!!” and chaos ensued.

            Pyros charged into the storm, her fear abolished, and I raised my sword to the neck of a black-armored Fae. A head rolled into the snow, my blade slick with ruby blood.

            My only thought was Andromache, of protecting her, making sure she was alive, keeping her alive—

            The door to the carriage opened. Vestus peeked out, saw the carnage, the guards fighting Hybern’s Fae, the blood in the snow. He slammed the door back, drawing his sword, and yelled in berserk rage as he stampeded the nearest Fae soldier, throwing the male to the ground and stabbing him to death.

            I screamed her name, yelled at her to close the doors and get back inside, even as she stepped out of the carriage with her own sword drawn.

            Andromache was the lioness – fierce, protective, loyal – and in that moment she was _more_. More than a human. More than a female. More than a queen. More than a healer. _More_. She tore into the Fae in front of her like a knife cutting paper. I had never seen a mortal move as fast as she did

            A Fae winnowed in front of me wielding dual blades. Pyros reared, knocking me back onto the ground. I rolled, catching my breath, just in time before a blade stabbed the snow where I had been. My fist met his face, he stumbled, and my sword ran up through his heart. As he fell, gurgling and choking on his own blood, there was already another one in front of me.

            I saw nothing but crimson rage as the Fae managed to hit me, the force of his punch sending me hurling across the muddy grass, catching my feet and sliding back, glaring up at him. As I came to a stop, I quickly looked up to survey the battle; Vestus had found a hammer, the captain of the guard was injured but still fighting bravely, and Andromache was being herded into the side of the carriage by two Fae with nets and swords.

            The fury of the Mother overcame me – I lifted my Illyrian shortsword and charged at the Fae in front of me. Our blades sang as they met. I parried two of his blows, then forced him to give up his ground. His foot caught in the mud and he sank, screaming as I flayed his neck and shoved my shortsword beneath his sternum and through his heart.

            I needed to get to Andromache. Vestus was busy crushing the skull of some poor Fae to see her. One of the Fae in front of her was trying to grab her sword from her hand, but she swiped, and the other tried to disarm her, or make her tumble; they didn’t seem aggressive, they didn’t appear to have the intent to kill her…

            My lungs burned as I ran through the carnage, ramming my shoulder into those who got in my way, hacking off the hand of one Fae who left his arm elevated for too long. I needed to get to her…

            “Andromache!” I yelled her name again, just as the Fae with the net made to rip her sword from her hands.

            She didn’t flinch, but the two Fae did, watching as I barreled through the throng. In that second, she flourished, unleashing her fury, using that move that Felix had taught her and she had been trying to perfect for months.

            That second was all she needed. Both Fae in front of her collapsed headless in the mud.

            I _saw_ her then, _saw_ her as I never had before, the Truth rearing its head and showing me a healer, a lioness, a lady, a queen, a warrior, and more.

            My mate.

…

            Once we were certain that all the Fae were dead, we gathered up our wounded and dead on the horses and left the damned plain where we had been attacked. The captain of the guard cursed and hissed about the whole thing. Andromache and I did our best to heal him from his wounds. He would live, and likely curse every Fae warrior he would encounter in the future.

            Andromache was steely and precise as she went about her work patching up the guards’ wounds. There was no hint of despair or anguish or sadness on her face. But I knew, I could sense that something was wrong. She had never lifted a hand to hurt anyone before, had never killed a creature or mortal or Fae.

            But I let her go about her work and I distracted myself with similar work, healing the harder wounds with my magic.

            I needed my own distance from her anyways.

            I didn’t understand. I wasn’t sure how it was possible for a Fae to establish a mating bond with a mortal female. It should have been impossible. It was not as if Andromache or mortals answered to the Cauldron-made pull of the mating bond, not as if it would ever dawn on her that such a thing had come to pass, not as if she would ever be able to reciprocate that soul-to-soul contact, not as if she would ever even understand such a thing…

            I puzzled and toiled and wrestled with this new information, so intensely, that I didn’t even realize that we had arrived at our destination. The outer gates opened to us and we passed into the town’s perimeter. We were immediately met by the wealthy merchant, a tall, grim, dark-haired man who was all business as he and Vestus made their introductions. The merchant lord sneered subtly at me, and on another day I might have said something, but I was tired, and just wanted a bath.

            It was a blur; our trek up to the manor, delivering our dead and wounded to the infirmary, Vestus and Andromache reporting what had happened to the merchant, being escorted to our rooms…

            Suddenly I was in the bath, and I shook myself from my half-sleep and jolted wide awake.

            _Andromache…_

            I rose from the tub, the servant girl throwing a robe around me, and I thanked her for her kindness, and asked her where Vestus and Andromache’s rooms were. Hair wet, barely dried from my bath, my glamours gone from me, I trudged through the hall until I was nearly to Andromache’s room. Sitting outside the doors were two of her guards, Cleo and another to replace the one who had been slaughtered earlier by the Fae.

            They were talking. I receded, hoping to catch a morsel of conversation.

            “Did you see the Morrigan today? The way she fought? She murdered two of those bastards before any of us could even get our swords out.”

            “Oh, aye, and she saved your ass from being stuck through like a pig,” Cleo snorted.

            “Don’t you think she’s dangerous? That it’s dangerous for us to have someone like her with us?”

            “You mean a Fae?”

            “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. How do we know she’s not one of Hybern’s little spies? How do we know that this attack wasn’t because she told them where we would be?”

            Cleo laughed at him. “You stupid idiot. You have no idea, do you?” There was a pause in the conversation. “The Morrigan is the only one who can help us right now, don’t you understand? Whatever friendship she maintains with our king and queen, it’s the only thing that ties us back to those sniveling bastard lords sitting on their thrones in Prythian. She’s the only one defending us. The only one _helping._ And for that, I’d fight beside her any day. She’s no spy, you stupid lout.”

            While Cleo’s words warmed my wretched heart, she wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.

            Pushing the thought from my mind, I winnowed into Andromache’s room. She sat up in bed. Wet hair fell over her face like a mossy curtain as she covered her eyes with her hands. Small sobs wracked her tiny form.

            _Cauldron_ …

            “Andromache,” I whispered.

            She sobbed once, then wiped the back of her hand over her eyes and peeled back the curtain of her hair to look up at me.

            My heart nearly ripped itself from my body as it thundered within me, again affirming the sealing of the mating bond. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my gut wrenched inside me, my knees felt weak, and my knuckles popped as I made my hands into fists to destroy whatever would cause my mate such upset.

            “Mor,” she whispered back.

            And broke into another stream of sobs, her face contorting as she cried, tears streaming from her cheeks.

            Immediately I went to her, wrapped her small form into mine, holding her against my chest, allowing her arms to twine with mine, letting her pour her grief and anguish into her tears.

            I sat on her bed and held her, long into the night, until her tears ebbed, and she told me of her grief, of her despair; how she had never killed a living thing before, and how she mourned for its loss. I listened, I kissed her forehead, I wept with her, I held her.

            In her hour of grief, how could I tell her that she was my mate? It was not the time, but I would have to find it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ACOWAR, Morrigan never says Andromache wasn't her mate, so I'm making it possible. You'll just have to see how it turns out!


	9. Reflections

            “We just received word that Sunstead was attacked by Hybern’s infiltrators as well,” Vestus told me the next morning in the merchant’s private study. “King Corvus and King Samson were murdered in the attack. Their daughters are set to take their crowns, once the commotion dies down.”

            Corvus was the hook-nosed king and Samson the timid, quiet king who never spoke a word.

            “Such a tragedy, my king,” the merchant quipped. “I hope that the new queens are able to rise to the occasion.”

            “They will do their jobs well. I have faith in them,” Vestus replied.

            Andromache remained silent, watching the merchant and Vestus interact. I watched her, praying to the Mother that she would survive this tragedy and be able to move forward.

            “Do we know anything else about these attacks?” I asked. “Was it truly Hybern who sent them?”

            “Yes. They are the same ruffians who landed on the coast and then disappeared. They were camped outside Sunstead in the woods and had been there for a while, watching and doing gods-know what else.”

            “I’ve notified my cousin. No doubt they will increase the number of ships watching the coast of Prythian.”

            “I hope so. We haven’t had a Fae problem on the Continent since the first part of the rebellions.”

            “Hopefully the War stays in Prythian, along with the rest of the Fae,” the merchant hissed.

            My eyes rolled to him. I felt my canines lengthen, my hands ball into fists, but before I could lash out, Vestus spoke up.

            “My lord, while I do appreciate your hospitality, you will cease your suspicions where Lady Morrigan is concerned. I have had no truer friend and ally than her. I personally vouch for her. And if I hear of any unrest against her, I will have you punished. My lord.”

            The dark-haired, grim mortal sighed. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

            Vestus bent over the desk where the merchant sat, placing his hands along the edge. He looked taller, more like a king, commanding.

            “Now, my lord. I wish to meet your daughter, so that we may discuss our engagement.”

            The merchant sat back in his chair with a cheeky grin on his face. “You will meet her, your Majesty, the moment you agree to wed her and make her your queen.”

            “And what do you want from me in return?”

            “A seat on your council and a say in what happens in this war.” He shrugged, folding his hands into his lap. “That’s all I want. A simple request really, your Majesty.”

            “And then you will give us access to your soldiers and ships?”

            “On my honor, your Grace.”

            Vestus sighed. “I will discuss your offer with Queen Andromache. You will hear from us shortly.”

            “I was actually planning to speak with her myself, my lord.”

            Andromache – who had been silent and watchful this whole time – looked up at the merchant. “Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of them, Lord Grissom.”

            Grissom grinned again, as he had when he spoke to Vestus, and said, “I understand that you are unwed, your Majesty.”

            I realized with horror in the pit of my stomach what was happening. The greasy, grim, tall, barbarous piece of self-elevating garbage wanted to be king! And he wanted to take my mate from me to do it!

            A low growl formed itself in the back of my throat, so quiet that none of the mortals would hear it.

            Andromache’s throat bobbed as she swallowed the words Lord Grissom had spoken, the question he had asked without asking.

            “Indeed, I am, Lord Grissom, and plan to remain unwed.”

            “Ah, well, if you change your mind, I offer myself to you. Such a shame to waste so much beauty on an unmarried life.”

            The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My stomach tightened into knots as I found my courage to finally say something to the brutish man. But, once again, before the poisonous words could leave my mouth, Vestus stepped in.

            “We’ll focus on one marriage at a time. And we’ll take our leave from you, Lord Grissom, to further discuss what you have said.”

            We left Grissom’s study in silence and did not speak again until we were in the safety of Vestus’ sprawling suite, which I had warded against prying ears earlier in the morning.

            “I’m not marrying that man,” Andromache spat once we were inside.

            “And I’d never want you to either,” said Vestus. “He’s repulsive.”

            “Glad we are all agreed on that,” I growled.

            Oh, how I itched to throw common courtesy to the wind and whisk Andromache from this meeting to steal a few kisses with her. I needed to, I realized – someone had threatened to take my mate from me – but I also needed to wait. I could wait for Vestus, and I could certainly wait for our meeting together to be over.

            “What do you think, Vestus?” Andromache asked him, sitting down in a chair near the window. “Are you going to take his offer?”

            “I’m not sure that I have any other choice. He has what we all need – money, soldiers, ships…And if we came all this way and I don’t marry her, then our friends would’ve died for nothing. Our people would’ve died for nothing. So that I could be picky and snobbish and choose who I wish to marry. No…” He sighed again, shoulders sagging. “I’ll do it. And just pray to the gods that she’s nothing like her father.”

            “He’ll try to make you his puppet, you know,” I pointed out. I moved to sit on the armrest of the chair that Andromache sat in. Her gentle hand touched my back, sending small flicks of electricity up my spine, and then that gentle hand touched my hair, playing with it idly. I did my best to maintain my focus on the conversation. “Try to hold things over you, get his way, bully you.”

            “That makes him no better than our former slavemasters. And we know how that turned out for them.”

            Andromache laughed. “Remind me to never get on your bad side, Vestus.”

            “He will try to do those things, yes, Morrigan. But I am not like him, and that alone will help me. I hope.”

            My lover’s hand slid back down to touch my back, to drag her fingernails up my spine. Again, I withheld my urge to move, to pounce on her, to burst into flame at her touch.

            “We can stay here for as long as you need us, Vestus. Not that I ever want to set foot again in Sunstead.”

            “Speaking of,” he said, clearing his throat and then going over to the cabinet to start pouring the three of us a glass of wine. “It just reminds me that I will soon be totally outnumbered, once Corvus and Samson’s daughters take the throne.”

            “Don’t even pretend that you didn’t despise them,” I chuckled. “Or that their daughters will be better rulers than they could ever have been.”

            He brought over the glasses to us, which we each took in hand. Vestus made a motion to toast. “To love,” he said. “To you ladies. And to my new marriage! May it be half as beautiful as the both of you.”

            We all smiled, clinked our glasses together, and then drank.

…

            Later that evening, Lord Grissom held a feast. “In honor of your engagement,” he told Vestus. Whether it was actually in honor of Vestus’ engagement was to be seen, but Grissom had promised to allow Vestus to meet his daughter. Hopefully, the party would not be in vain.

            We had a few hours before the party and Andromache was hopeless in finding the perfect dress for the occasion, so she asked me to come to her room so we could find the right garment.

            “You didn’t bring very many,” I commented to her, surveying the swatches of fabric in various colors and shades. Truly, she had only packed a handful.

            “They don’t exactly pay you in dresses when you’re a pauper queen, darling,” she sighed, flopping back on her bed in despair.

            “No, I suppose they don’t. Would you like to look at my closet?”

            “I doubt you have anything that would fit me. You’re a bit taller than I am, Mor. And less busty than me.”

            “Not by much.”

            She giggled. “So you’ve noticed?”

            My throat dried up like a desert. “Oh, I noticed, darling.”

            Andromache tossed a fur-lined glove at my face, stirring me from staring at her.

            “Be serious. Help me. I don’t know which one to pick.”

            I sighed, fingers gliding once again over the fabrics of the dresses laid out on her bed. I pulled the silver one, its front scooped low, a shawl attached at its back, long and flowy billows of sleeves trailing, the train of the dress at least three feet… She would look beautiful in it. She always looked beautiful.

            Her voice interrupted my imagination. “It’s hard to think that I’m sitting here with you picking dresses when my people are dying, when good soldiers died for me. When I…”

            “You were defending yourself, Andromache,” I told her, my hand grabbing hers in comfort.

            Her throat bobbed as she swallowed the words. She nodded at me. “But, Mor, that’s the thing… It wasn’t just that I was defending myself. I was… I felt _alive_ , truly alive, with that sword in my hand. But when I killed them…”

            I waited for her to finish her thought, afraid of what she might say.

            “I hadn’t killed before yesterday. I felt like a monster once I realized what I’d done. But I also realized that this evil atrocity I committed – taking a life from this world – was the only way to protect my people. To protect myself. To protect you. And I would shed all the blood in the world to protect you.”

            My fierce lioness. My queen. My mate.

            “I love you, Mor.”

            A rush of emotion came to my mind, set my heart on fire; a confusing collection of memories and scars and moments of joy and realization and bitterness…

            _“No one will ever love you,” my father hissed at me. “You whoring slut.”_

               The words my father spat at me the day he brought me back to the Court of Nightmares, after I slept with Cassian, thus ending my engagement to Eris, the son of the Lord of the Autumn Court, thus ending his power play and crushing the control he aimed to exert over my life, dictating its very direction…

            _“Of course, you’re staying here,” Rhysand told me. “But you’re not a prisoner, Mor. If you want to leave, no one is stopping you. It’s up to you.”_

            It’s what Rhysand said to me after Azriel brought me to Velaris. I’d been cooped up in a bedroom, Madja tending to the wounds left by my father and his cronies. Choice. Rhysand had given me a choice. For the first time in my life.

            _The way he looks at me, I know how he feels; a puppy looking for a master, a lost sailor seeking a harbor in a storm, a wolf without a pack looking for a mate. But he must know, has to understand, I can_ never _be what he wants me to be… I can never be his._

            “Mor?”

            Her voice was soft, gentle, her thumb running over the back of my hand. I saw her: I was once again struck by her beauty, her imperfect perfection. Her scattered freckles, her curly golden hair, her dimples, her amber-gold eyes, her dark skin. Her pure heart – despite what she would like to think about the stain recently brought upon it.

            My heart ached for her. Set itself on fire for her. My mate. My love.

            “I love you so much, Andromache,” I finally confessed, thinking how every moment of my life had led to this moment.

            I squeezed her hand, and we stared at each other, happy. Just the two of us in that space of time. And I prayed to the Mother that I could relive it with her again and again and again.


	10. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lift your hips for me, love." -Tahereh Mafi, "Ignite Me"
> 
> Smut ahead. Enjoy, friends.

            “King Vestus, this is my daughter, your future queen, Lady Emilia.”

            Emilia Grissom was nothing like her father. Where he was tall and brutish and black-haired and greasy-looking, she was average height and delicate and chestnut-haired and pleasant looking. She wore a simple pale blue gown and wore her makeup light. She had the tiniest spackling of freckles on her cheeks. And lines that lit up her eyes when she smiled at Vestus and curtsied to him.

            “A pleasure to finally meet you, your Grace,” she said, her voice smooth and refined where her father’s voice was gruff and grating. “And you must be Queen Andromache and Lady Morrigan of the Night Court.” Another curtsy and another smiled flashed at both Andromache and I. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you all, in truth.”

            “The pleasure is ours, Lady Emilia,” Vestus chimed in.

            I looked at him. He had pressed the edges of his clothes, had polished the buttons on his jacket, tied his hair back, and even washed said hair! Vestus puffed his chest a bit more, preened and paraded; a peacock trying to woo his lady.

            It was too much fun to watch to say anything to shame him for it.

            “Indeed it is,” said Andromache in chorus.

            A tune for dancing struck up in the background. Vestus immediately bowed and asked his new lady to dance. She, of course, obliged, and they were off to join the other dancers in the lineup.

            Lord Grissom offered his hand to Andromache. “Care for a dance, my Queen?”

               Andromache did her best to hide her disgust, but I saw it there, that faint twinge of a snarl on her upper lip. To mortal eyes, she would have appeared perhaps uppity or snobbish. But I saw her genuine distaste for the man.

            “No, thank you, my lord. I am quite content here.”

            He huffed. “Suit yourself, your Majesty.”

            With that, he stormed away to resume his position at his table. A servant poured him some wine and he sat back in his chair to pout.

            “I hate that…that _mongrel_ can ask you to dance, but I can’t,” I told her, feeling the rage of competition, of that man even thinking that he might possibly have a chance with Andromache. _Territorial, snarling female._

            “In another world, in another time…” she whispered sadly. “A dream that may, one day, perchance, come to pass.”

            Andromache looked up at me. She was so lovely in her silver flowing gown. I truly wished – with all my heart – that we could be together openly, publicly, without fear; of small-mindedness, of prejudice, of hatred, of contempt, of misunderstanding, of shame.

            A dream for another world, another lifetime.

            Not ours.

            “I hope so,” I told her, wishing that I could take her in my arms and kiss her and dance the rest of the night away with her.

            “Wine?” A servant bumbled into view, a tray of wine in hand.

            Both Andromache and I took a glass, and once the servant rushed away, we stood back to watch Vestus and Lady Emilia as they danced joyfully together.

            “He looks happy. With her, I mean.”

            I nodded. “Yes he does.”

            “Probably for the first time since I’ve known him.”

             “You look happy too, Andromache. Though you hide it well.”

            She giggled into her wine glass. “You make me happy, Mor. I…” I heard her heave a deep sigh after she took a sip of wine. Andromache continued to watch the new happy couple as she spoke. “I love you. And I want to be with you.”

            “You are with me, silly,” I told her. I realized then how quiet her voice had become, the boisterous party raging around us so loud that none would hear what we had to say to each other.

            “Yes. But I mean… _with_ you.” She turned her head just far enough to show me her lips over the top of her glass. There was a smirk there, a kind of uncouth lividity. But so much more. “I want to make love with you.”

            “You…” I could barely breathe. I gulped down the swig of wine I had just taken, then coughed when it caught in the back of my throat. A servant came and took my glass from my hand, while I coughed and tried to regain my composure.

            Andromache giggled at me.

            “Stop it,” I hissed, feeling parts of myself come alive when I saw the way she looked at me.

            I smelt it then. Her. Smelt her arousal. The teasing, the flirting… _Mother have mercy…_ If I didn’t know before what she was talking about, I knew then. I smelt her; honey and jasmine…and that extra something else that I couldn’t quite place but knew exactly what it was.

            After I stopped coughing and was able to catch my breath, I told her, rather timidly, “The first time, when we were in my room and I told you I wasn’t ready… That didn’t mean I didn’t want you, Andromache. I _want_ you… _all the time_. But… I wouldn’t really know what to do with you once I had you where I wanted you.” I felt a blush bloom into my cheeks, finally admitting to my mate that I had no idea how to please her. Not that I didn’t want to; I just wouldn’t know how.

            “I’m a very good teacher,” she whispered, leaning in closer until we were a breath apart. “And I’m sure you’re a fast learner.”

            “For you, love, I could be.” Shocks of desire rippled through me, starting at my core and folding outward.

            “We should socialize with some of the others in this party. Then I’m going out to the garden for some fresh air and you should follow me when you can.”

            Andromache put her glass on a passing tray and gathered herself to go and mingle. I stood there, watching her. As she walked, Lord Grissom watched her too, but never left his chair. I saw his lustful eyes from across the room. A well-dressed young man stopped her, stuttering and laughing and bowing, and Andromache was pleasant as she let the young man introduce himself. A gaggle of human females came up behind him and he introduced them to Andromache. They appeared to be making idle conversation and making connections.

            I could think of nothing but her. I imagined how she would smell, how she would taste, how it would feel to have her skin naked against mine. A subtle shudder ripped through my body with that thought.

            A servant walked past me with mugs of warm mead on a tray and I snagged one to sip on as I left my position to mosey through the crowd of mortals.

            Vestus and Lady Emilia finished their dance with finesse and then spotted me standing on the edge of the dancing floor. They walked to me, hand in hand, smiles on their faces.

            “I see you two are getting on well,” I commented after I sipped from my mead.

            “Yes, we are,” Lady Emilia remarked, her face flushed red with joy or embarrassment or horror, or perhaps all three. She looked at Vestus with bright eyes and seemed to breathe in a sigh of relief. “I am just…relieved that you aren’t the brute my father made you out to be, my lord.”

            Vestus laughed. “Me, a brute? Never!”

            Someday, he would tell her his story, but not today, not after they had just met. Instead, he would allow his kingly charm to shine through.

            “And you all seem to be good friends, am I correct?” Lady Emilia asked Vestus and me.

            “Yes, indeed,” I replied. “King Vestus has been a good friend these last few months.”

            “I am glad of it. It is good to see humans and Fae as friends. A year ago, the same couldn’t be said. I have heard stories, my lady, of your cousin, Lord Rhysand, and his prowess in this battle that he fights with our human friends.”

            “Yes, he’s got a bit of a soft spot for justice and doing what he sees as right.”

            “Then I am glad that he is on our side.”

            “And what about you, my lady? What are your opinions on the rest of my kind?” It was a bold question, and I ignored Vestus’ glare as I waited for his lovely lady to respond.

            She just smiled confidently. “I think we each have much to learn from each other, and that all life is sacred and should be treated so, regardless of where one comes from or what race or what one does or who one loves.”

            I nodded and chuckled. Looking to Vestus, who also seemed appeased by her answer, I said, “Careful, my friend, or your new queen will outshine you!”

            Vestus rubbed the back of his neck and grinned gleefully. “Gods, I hope she does.”

            They turned to each other, exchanging amorous glances that made me want to vomit. I took another sip of my mead and mused that I was certain Vestus had felt the same way around Andromache and me.

            For as much as I wished to join my mate and be at her side, I also understood the value of aligning myself with the beloved King Vestus and his future queen. So, I stood there, for a good portion of the evening, socializing and discussing and politicking and hoping to understand the fair Lady Emilia and what kind of future queen she would be.

            Finally, towards the darker hours of the evening, my own queen waltzed past the group of us. Our eyes met for half a second. As far as I knew, Vestus was the only one who noticed the exchange. I was ready for her, burning, aflame, ready to be hers and have her be mine.

            I excused myself from the conversation just as soon as I spied Andromache slipping through the door of the hall into the cold winter air. Cleo followed not far behind. I knew my mate would find some excuse for Cleo to leave her, if not then we would have to lose her somewhere in the garden.

            After saying my goodnights and handing a servant my finished mug of mead I zigzagged my way through the merrymakers towards the door where Andromache made her exit.

            The mortals were too drunk to notice me as I slunk in and out of them towards the exit of the hall. I could smell their drunkenness and none of their fear. Soon, I sniffed the chilling winter breeze, like the smell of pine and snow and the Rainbow when it frosted over in winter. Puffs of my own breath followed me further into the garden as I exited the castle terrace.

            I beheld her then, glowing and radiant in the light of the full moon, sitting on a bench beneath the silvery weeping willow tree. Cleo was nowhere to be found.

            My breath was fire in my lungs – my passion and love for my mate consumed me, my lifeblood. As I neared her, I could smell her scent again, jasmine, honey…and…lavender. That was the smell of her arousal, I discovered, or what she smelt like when she was… _excited_ …

            I took a seat on the bench beside her and waited for her to speak. She sat there, staring off into the beautiful wintry garden. We shared a few moments of silence, me watching her, waiting, examining every inch of her beauty, thinking feral thoughts of how it would be to make love to her.

            “It’s majestic,” she said.

            “So are you.”

            Andromache smirked. “I’ve not seen a real garden in winter before. The forests and trees, yes, but…not something so beautiful that is able to withstand the harshness of the cold.”

            I noticed then, how she shivered, and I wanted to kick myself for not seeing it sooner. I touched her hand with mine in the space between us on the bench and asked, “Would you like me to take you somewhere warm now?”

            Her teeth chattered. How mortal, how completely finite she was. I wanted to protect her from everything.

            “Yes, darling.”

            “Did you take care of Cleo?”

            “I told her I would see her at my room in the morning.”

            “Then that is where you’ll be by then.” I clasped her hand. “Hold onto me,” I whispered, and I winnowed the both of us back into the castle.

            We landed on our feet in my chamber. Immediately, I used my magic to light the fireplace and warm the room. A low orange glow danced on my mate’s skin, flickering shadows across her silver dress. In seconds, the chilly chamber heated to a cozy temperature.

            “I’m still in awe of you, Mor,” my love whispered into the shell of my ear.

            Tingles ran up my spine. Her fingers swirled against my cheeks, cupping my chin to pull me down into her kiss and embrace. Another shiver ran up my spine at the contact; the want, the desire, the freedom and fear and wonder and pleasure we would feel…

            I wrapped her in my arms and deepened the kiss, fists bunching into the fabric of the dress at her hips. Andromache’s tongue danced against my lips, tentative, hopeful, sultry. I couldn’t pull her in enough as our tongues met. We were breathless when we finally pulled apart.

            Andromache giggled as she looked at me with low-lidded eyes. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw from my ear, down my neck, to my collar bone, and teased with featherlight touches at the apex of my sternum near my breasts.

            “Such enthusiasm,” she chuckled.

            I brought my forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you, Andromache.”

            “And I love you too, Mor.”

            She pressed a kiss against my cheek. Her breath was warm as her lips slid against my cheek to my neck. Meanwhile, her hands reached behind my back to tug at the neck of my garnet chiffon dress, revealing my shoulders and the tops of my breasts for her display. Andromache’s lips moved again, and my heart trembled in my chest as she clawed at my front, hands palming and pulling and revealing me to her. My legs shook as I stood before her, bare but for my lacy underclothes. Heat pooled inside my center as I stepped out of my dress laying on the floor and back into her arms. My Fae senses were overwhelmed; heat, touch, her cool skin, the sound of her heartbeat, her jasmine scent, the kisses she pressed against my shoulders, how she marked me with teeth and tongue and lips.

            For a moment, fear paralyzed me – the last time I had been this intimate with someone, it was Cassian, and it was for a very specific purpose. There was no love or tenderness or gentleness; just raw determination, a means to an end, no room for pleasure.

            “I…” I wasn’t sure how to start the sentence. I had little idea of what I was doing with her. Because she was a woman. Because she was a human. Because I was afraid of what she would think of my marred body.

            “Are you okay, Mor?” she asked me. Andromache searched my eyes. Her own were bright with hope and love, pupils dilated with desire.

            “I…” The words were stuck in my throat.

            “Do you want me stop?”

            “No.” That answer was certain. I had gone all this way, told myself to go through with it: because deep in my heart, I wanted to. I burned with desire for her. I wanted her. I just didn’t know how to do it. “I want to.”

            “Then let me, love.” She looked up at me with a smile and touched my lips. “Trust me. Let me love you.”

            I nodded.

            I meant to reach for her, to undress her, but Andromache pressed her hand against my belly and pushed me back towards the bed. My legs hit the wooden bed frame and I lost my balance as I looked into her eyes – so full of warmth and love and desire – and fell back onto the down comforter. She was on top of me before I could protest. My blood pounded inside my ears, a deafening noise.

            Andromache covered my body with hers and framed my head with her arms. Her lips kissed mine, tongues slipping in and out of our mouths. I was not sure where I began and she ended, or where she began and I ended. I simply melted into her.

            She shifted her weight to the side, our lips still locked, and her right hand moved from my face and trickled down over my shoulders to my breasts. A finger slipped beneath my brassiere, where the rest of her hand followed suit to touch my breast. A sigh unleashed itself from my lips at the contact and my hands reflexively arched into her hair, digging into the golden curls to pull her closer to me.

            “You’re so beautiful, Mor,” she whispered to me, breaking our lips apart. Her amber gold eyes raked along my body, taking in the sight of me.

            Her teeth landed on my neck and she bit me, gently, soothing the bite with a following kiss. The bites and kisses began to migrate further down from my neck, her lips hovering over my brassiere. Andromache’s thumb hooked onto the strap on my left shoulder and she pulled it down, then to the right to pull the next strap. She kissed me again as her hand reached around my back to undo the clasps of the brassiere. With delicate hands, she removed the garment, staring at me, watching me as I watched her. I purred as both her hands came up to grope my breasts. My mate rested her chin on my belly after planting a kiss on the scar where a nail had once pierced my womb.

            “Cauldron,” I whispered as she turned her focus back to my breasts. Lips and tongue swirled over one nipple, then transitioned to the other, the lonely one covered again with a dark hand.

            She was so gentle, so reassuring, so thorough…

            “You’re wearing too much,” I told her as she came up for air.

            Andromache grinned, her face once again lowering to my stomach to shower it with kisses. In between kisses, she said, “Don’t worry about that right now, darling.”

            Before I could protest, her kisses moved further south along the landscape of my body to the crux between my right hip and my belly. She nuzzled her face into the crook, crouched on the bed before me. Her teeth nipped gently, teasing, at the lacy black underwear that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

            “I knew you liked pretty things, Mor, but I didn’t realize your tastes were so limitless.”

            I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic or flippant, but the words were stolen from my breath when my love slid her fingers beneath my backside and pulled at the underwear. Painfully slow, it slid down my rump to my thighs and then down and off my legs. She dropped it to the floor and then turned her attention back to me. Andromache grinned wolfishly.

            As I attempted to close my legs, to hide myself from her, she gently moved herself further down to the foot of the bed and then knelt before me, gently pulling my legs back apart.

            My golden queen bowed before me and I was not worthy.

            “Andromache--“

            Her free hand reached up to press a finger to my lips, shushing me, while her other hand steadied against my thigh. “Morrigan…” Her teeth nipped at the inner part of my thigh. “Do you want me to keep going?”

            My core throbbed with arousal and desire. Oh, I wanted to…

            “Yes…” I swallowed.

            “Then relax…and let me.”

            Andromache kissed the insides of my thighs, near my center, before her tongue lapped at me. _Shit_ , I thought as her strokes became narrow, stronger. She focused her attentions at the top, to the little mound of pleasure there, and my legs began to shake.

            My breath caught with each stroke. I nearly came undone when I felt her fingers at my entrance, teasing. I swore again, unholy words, and I felt Andromache’s smile as she slipped her fingers inside me. So wet, so easy. My love proceeded to selflessly pleasure me with her tongue and lips and fingers, pumping and licking and stroking, coaxing the fire of my desire into an inferno. As I neared my end, my back arcing off the bed, Andromache’s free hand grabbed for mine, and I rode out my climax with our fingers entangled.

            A flash of bright stars and moons and never-ending darkness surrounded me. It was a feeling of cold and emptiness, but also one of warmth and security. A paradox of pleasure.

            My body slumped back to the bed with a satisfied thump and my vision pealed back to show Andromache finishing me with slow strokes, kisses along my thighs, until her head peaked up over the crest of my pelvis. She wiped the back of her arm across her slick lips and smiled at me.

            I was breathless and moaned in response when she asked me how I felt.

            “Oh yeah?” she giggled, sliding her body back up so we could look into each other’s eyes.

            My head bobbed.

            Andromache continued to giggle as she pressed little kisses against my sweat-slicked chest and neck.

            After a few seconds, and after stretching my limbs, I was capable of speech, and in a feral growl, I told her, “My turn.”

            She gasped as my hands grabbed at the front of her beautiful silver dress and pulled, ripping the fabric in a jagged pattern down the middle. Andromache’s expression turned to one of surprise. I used my immortal strength to flip her over onto the bed. I buried my face against her neck and kissed and nuzzled, my canines nipping just the tiniest bit at her skin.

            “Morrigan!” she squealed, jabbing at my sides.

            I came up for a breath and saw the dress halfway hanging off her shoulders. I ripped what was left of it, revealing all of her to me. She wore no undergarments, I realized, as I stared down at her, my mouth agape.

            Heat pooled inside me once more, just at the sight of her naked body. _Oh Mother have mercy…_ She was beautiful, absolutely stunning, breathtaking.

            “Mor?”

            My mouth went dry at the sight of her. Her breasts were full and rounded, topped with perky dark pigmented nipples. Her hips had the slightest curve to them, casting her in a delicate hourglass shape. Freckles spackled her chest, her shoulders, all the way down to her tummy. Andromache pulled her arms from the ripped dress and sat up, frowning at me.           

            “I liked that dress,” she pouted.

            “I will buy you another one,” I told her, once I finished gaping at her. “I’ll buy you all the dresses in the world, Andromache, so long as I get to have my way with you in them.”

            “Is that right?”

            She outstretched her hand and curled her fingers underneath me, flicking my mound of pleasure. A ripple of want shot through me, but I batted it down as I swatted her hand away. “Like I said, it’s my turn, darling.”

            Andromache chuckled. “Do you need any help?” she purred at me.

            I sat down on the bed in front of her and pulled her into my lap, her legs crossing behind my back. My core tightened reflexively at how close our naked bodies were. Her skin against mine was so soft, so warm. She smelled of jasmine and honey and lavender. My hand moved in between us, at first feeling, exploring, until I heard Andromache’s soft intake of breath, watched as she threw her head back and moaned.

            “Is that what I was supposed to be looking for?” I crooned in her ear as I bit at her lobe.

            “Shit, Mor,” she swore, her hand coming up to grip the back of my neck and pull me in for a sloppy kiss.

            While I had never been with another female before, I was still a female myself, and had known my own pleasure. Not lately, but in the past. I knew a little of what I was doing.

            As was evidenced by Andromache’s mewls of pleasure, her thighs squeezing my hips and bucking against my hand. I steadied her by pressing my arm against the small of her back, anchoring that hand to her hip. Meanwhile, I kissed her, hard, tongues and teeth clashing, until she threw back her head once more, and I moved my lips to her neck, where I sucked hard at the space of flesh behind her ear and close to her hairline.

            Andromache bucked against me, her pelvis grinding hard against my hand, until I had her moaning out loud, breathing hard and fast, nails running in streaks over my back. My forearm was cramping, but I kept on, and a moment later, she gasped and huffed, her body convulsing around mine, legs squeezing my hips like a python.

            She slumped slack against me and I peppered her face and shoulders with kisses. I dared not move anything else but held her to me.

            This. Her. This was what I had always wanted, dreamed of, felt like I was missing. She was the part of me that I had kept locked up for so long. Andromache was the person at the other end of the thread I had always felt tugging me away from the Night Court, away from my parents, away from everything. But now that I had her, I wanted nothing else. No one else.

            Andromache might never know that I was her mate. I decided that would be for her own good – she would never understand, never be able to reciprocate the bond the way most Fae couples were able to.

            But she was mine and I was hers and that was enough.

            Her arms crawled up around my neck and we sat there holding each other for a few minutes until she was able to catch her breath.

            “Was it okay?” I finally asked her sheepishly.

            “I wouldn’t have known that you’d never been with a woman before.”

            “Is that so? Well, I’d like to think that I had a good teacher.”

            My love purred against my shoulder. “Hmm. You must have.”

            “Do you want something to drink? Or do you want to go to sleep? You can stay here tonight, only if you want to.”

            Whatever it took to have her close to me for another minute longer. Before we had to go back to acting like we were just friends.

            “I’ll take a drink,” she replied, backing out to kiss the tip of my nose. “Some of that sweet wine you have sounds lovely. And maybe, who knows, we can…do it again, later?”

            Tingles ran up my spine once more. Oh, the promise of more to come. I smiled at her and kissed her soundly. “That sounds good.”

            We stayed up almost all night, until the early hours of the morning, drinking and laughing and talking and enjoying each other’s bodies. And after we slept for a few hours, her body snug and tucked into mine, I winnowed her back to her room.

            “I’ll see you again soon,” she promised with a wink and a kiss.

            I told her, “I can’t wait,” and winnowed back to my room. Back to pretending she was not my lover, my love, my mate. But that she was, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter. Hope you enjoyed! Please comment if you did!


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